West of Westeros
by TheMMMG
Summary: What is west of Westeros? What if Davos found out? A different take on GOT in which Davos is shipwrecked on the coast of an unknown island west of Westeros. There he meets new societies that may help him in the upcoming war of the Seven Kingdoms. – AU of what could have happened in 8x02 the hours before the battle. Flashbacks included, POV Changes.
1. West of Westeros

What is west of Westeros? What if Davos found out? A different take on GOT in which Davos is shipwrecked on the coast of an unknown island west of Westeros. There he meets new societies that may help him in the upcoming war of the Seven Kingdoms. – AU of what could have happened in 8x02 the hours before the battle. Flashbacks included, POV Changes.

Just a thought that I had. Might be a one-shot. I haven't decided yet.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable names, events, words, etc. are not mine. OC characters, clans, countries, and languages were inspired by Scandinavian/Nordic and Scottish culture. Some words or names may be changed for the sake of the story.

* * *

The air whipped their fur cloaks as thousands of clansmen unloaded from the boats onto the shores of Westeros. The scouts they had sent ahead informed the people of Eurkos that landing too far north would bring them in the middle of the dead, but landing too far south would prevent them from reaching Winterfell in time. In the end, the clansmen sent small groups with canoes up the river to land in Barrowton. Horses would travel ahead of the group, allowing the clansmen to ride north to Winterfell. The western shore of Westeros was rocky and dangerous, but the people of Eurkos were used to rocky and dangerous shores.

Ingrid, Chief of the Alpta clan, led the clans out of Barrowton towards Winterfell. On her right rode Aldvilde, providing secondary navigation and council. On her left sat Bjornen, Alpta's top warrior after herself.

Receiving the raven from Davos had been surprising, but not nearly as surprising as the contents of the letter. _The dead are marching towards Winterfell with the Night King. I find myself in need of aid; please send help. _

And send help she did. Ingrid was nothing if not honorable, and she always kept her word. She sent scouts in all directions, towards the other clans asking for aid, as much as they could afford to send. She sent scouts to Westeros to send word back of the current climate. She sent scouts west, to ward off any oncoming attacks. She fortified her village and buckled down for winter and made arrangements for a new Gatlopp should she fail to return. And with a collection of food, supplies, and weapons, Ingrid took her warriors and sailed off towards Westeros.

Now she was here, eager to see Davos again, but wary to met the rulers of Westeros after hearing his stories. But she was not afraid, not of the living nor the dead. Alptan take fear and swallow it, turning it into fire to fuel their fight. Ingrid would do the same.

* * *

_When Ser Davos opened his eyes, he was aware he was being watched. He didn't know where he was. There had been dense fog and a storm. Too late the lookouts had seen the sharp rocks circling the coastline of the unnamed island. But as Davos blinked away salt water, the fog had lifted. The sun shone with nary a cloud to be seen. When his eyes focused, they focused on the sharp end of a spear pointed at his face. _

_There was someone speaking. A woman. But she was speaking in a language he did not understand. It was not Common, nor Valyrian. _

"_I apologize," He said politely, "But I do not understand you." _

_The woman on the other end of the spear narrowed her eyes. _

"_Do you understand me now?" She said with a thick accent and a lifted brow. _

"_Yes." He replied with a grin._

* * *

"They build tall structures here." Aldvilde said as they arrive at the gates of Winterfell.

Ingrid hummed in agreement. Bjornen turned to face them, "They have no need to leave. They can plant roots for generations."

Ingrid rode forward to the guards. Climbing off of her horse, she turned to face them. She was tall, and with her bright hair pulled back into warrior braids and her body covered with light armor and furs, Ingrid cut an impressive figure. Her face was stoic as she braced her hand upon her scabbard and spoke boldly in Westeros' common tongue. "I am Ingrid, Chief of the Alpta, here to see Ser Davos."

The guards looked at each other in confusion.

"Ser Davos?" One said in a strange accent. "Alpta?" Said the other.

Ingrid raised a brow, "Well?" She said showcasing her own unique accent. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

* * *

_"That's mine." Davos said, speaking to one of the men currently rummaging through his coin pouch that had fallen out of his cloak upon arriving. The man ignored him, and instead lifted one of the coins to show it to his companion. They examined the coin carefully before one bit into it. His face changed expression into an impressed look at the coin's new value. _

"_You have not told us who you are." Said the woman pointing the spear at him. _

"_Apologies," Davos said, moving to his feet and giving a small bow, "I am Ser Davos Seaworth."_

_Her face was unchanged except for a tiny crinkle between her eyebrows. "Your name is Ser?"_

_He grinned humorously, "No, that is just my title."_

"_What does it mean?"_

_Davos frowned, "It means that I'm a knight."_

_The woman's eyes shifted and connected with another woman standing to the left of her. When their eyes met, the woman raised one brow. Davos did not know what this meant. _

_The woman stared back a Davos and then barked harshly at the other members of her party surrounding Davos and some of the ship's belongings that had washed on shore. When she finished speaking, the others moved quickly to gather the salvageable items and then started towards the grassy edge of the beach, where a sandy trail led up the cliff side. _

_As she turned to follow, Davos called after her, "Wait! You have not told me your name." _

_She stopped, frowning as she turned to face him. She cocked her hip out and used the spear as leverage against the uneven path. "I am Ingrid." She said, her accent cutting off the 'r' in her name and ending the 'd' harshly. _

_She turned back towards the path without waiting for a response. After noticing Davos had not yet moved, she looked at him over her shoulder. _

"_Well?" She said with only a slight lift in her voice signifying her amusement. "Are you coming _Ser_ Davos?"_

* * *

Ingrid suspected that the only reason they were let inside the gates was because it was wartime and they showed up ready to fight. She thought this was foolish of them because for all they knew the clans could have been enemies sent to take advantage of Winterfell's distracted attentions. But, Ingrid reasoned, perhaps the better guards were given greater responsibilities and left gatekeeping to the lesser guards. She watched the guards warily. Yes, she judged, that must have been the case.

Ser Davos appeared at the top of a staircase leading into the castle. "Chief Ingrid," he greeted, beaming. "I never heard word back, I didn't know if you would make it."

"Ser Davos," Ingrid smiled back, glad to see her friend. "Of course, even the dead could not keep me away." She grasped his forearm in greeting.

"Come," Davos moved aside to direct her up the stairs, "I'll introduce you."

Before following him, Ingrid turned to give orders to the clans. The other chiefs trusted Ingrid with formalities because she was the only chief with ties to the rulers of Westeros, but they were not prone to idleness.

"Aldvilde, Bjornen." Ingrid called. The two clansmen stepped forward so she would not have to shout. "Make camp with the other armies outside. Take stock of supplies, aid any that you find, meet with the other chiefs – I will speak with them after." The two nodded before turning and directing clansmen to various jobs.

* * *

_"Were there any other survivors?" Davos said, "From the shipwreck."_

"_Yes." Ingrid replied. "They found many a mile north of where you landed. They are at Dyþlinn."_

_"Dyþlinn?" Davos asked, "Where is that?"_

"_In Eurkos."_

"_Where's that?" Davos asked again, not feeling any less confused._

"_You ask many questions Ser Davos." Ingrid said, her voice smiling. _

"_You –" Davos started, before he paused for they had reached the village. _

_It was unlike any village Davos had ever seen. There were no great stone structures like the castles or the septs that Davos had seen. There were only a few buildings. But their buildings were sturdy and grand; their entries painted with bright colors. Some were covered with grass, others with shingles. Some buildings had stone lining the outside walls, fortifying the structure. They varied in size, but they were all built around the village center where most of the people were gathered. Most certainly, Davos noticed as he looked around, while there were many people and many houses to accommodate those people, there were not nearly a many as most of the towns in Westeros. And all of the people moved in such a way that they could easily pack up and leave at the first sign of trouble. _

_Another thing he noticed was that all the people knew each other. As villagers mingled, they greeted each other, laughed, talked, and played. Davos did not see any beggars lining the alleys between buildings, or any peasants. All the villagers carried weapons, even the children. _

_The village center, where Davos could see some of the sailors eating, was full of market stands and mingling villagers. And as their small party walked towards the center, several members broke off, chatting amiably with other villagers with holding on to the salvaged goods. Several villagers came up to Ingrid and spoke quickly in their language, but never did she stop moving. As more villagers spoke, Ingrid replied, smiling to the villagers and bidding them to walk with her on her way towards the center. _

_It was a dynamic Davos had never seen before, and from the wide eyes of the sailors, neither had they._

_As Davos observed this new society, Ingrid steadily walked towards the torgus. Her fellow clansmen soon grew tired of pleasantries and broke off to find answers elsewhere. Ingrid turned to Aldvilde. _

"_What do you think of the new visitors?" She asked, seeking a truthful answer. Ingrid knew Aldvilde would give her one. She had known Ingrid their whole lives. They fought together, conquered together, and governed together. Aldvilde was her most trusted confidant. Apart from this, Aldvilde was known for being honest simply because she had no patience for games. This was why she did not win the Gatlopp. _

"_I think they are strange. But I do not believe they are threatening." She answered, smirking._

"_Yes," Ingrid agreed. "Although we may want to keep a close watch on this one." She said, flicking her head toward Davos walking behind her. "He seems to think he is the night."_

"_Obviously he is insane." Aldvilde said, nodding her head with mocking wisdom._

"_Yes, Ingrid grinned. "Obviously."_

* * *

As Ingrid followed Davos towards the council room, she observed the castle. It was grand, unlike any she had seen. There were many walls, which were good for protection. She could see the men making trenches and spikes with a stone she had never seen before.

"What is that?" She asked Davos nodding towards a weapon made out of this new material. He glanced over to see what she was referring to.

"Dragonglass." He answered. "It's the only thing besides fire that will kill the dead."

Ingrid paused. If this material is the only weapon that could kill their enemy, acquiring some for her clansmen would be of upmost importance. She would need to bring this up in the council meeting.

"You will be meeting with Daenerys Targaryen, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; The King of the North, Jon Snow; and his half-sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell." Davos stated as they climbed more stairs and crossed a landing. "There may be others in the room. They have advisors. Lady Starks' sister, Arya Stark, may also be in attendance." Ingrid concentrated on the names. There were so many titles. Eurkosians did not have so many titles.

"Do you know to greet them?" Davos asked, wondering if she had remembered his lessons in Westerosi politics.

"Yes." Ingrid said, stopping to look at Davos, "I do not forget anything." Davos smiled.

* * *

_Dyþlinn was unlike any town Davos had ever been in. Within the short time that he had spent in the village, Davos had learned a few crucial details. _

_Ingrid was the chief of a clan called the "Alpta". There was no male chief. The chief was determined for each clan through an intense naming ceremony __after the previous one died__. Davos was still unclear what this entailed, but it sounded extremely difficult and winning was considered an impressive feat. The "torgus" was what they called the village center. That was where they would trade, barter, buy, sell, or conduct public business. Any private business that was serious enough to go through the Chief would be conducted within the main hall, the grandest building within the village that consisted of several small side rooms and a gigantic main room where many would eat or socialize during the winter months. They had no "towns" or "cities," they had only "clans" and villages that the clans would name. If a clan moved, they would build a new village or take the old village with them. There were many clans, too many to count, far too many to name. From what Davos could gather, no one person knew all of the clans because often a family would decide to live somewhere else, pack up, and make their own clan._

_The island that they were on was large in landmass, but did not hold all of the nomadic clans. Ingrid had mentioned that several other clans had appeared before from neighboring islands. _

_They were also discoverers. Davos had learned this walking through their library, a smaller room attached to the great hall. They had maps of all of their known lands, including Westeros, not including Essos. They had thousands of islands depicted farther west than Davos could have imagined. _

_Their trade routes suddenly made more sense to Davos. As he saw the lines of their trade routes drawn out on one of the maps hanging upon the wall, Davos noticed how they were able to accumulate so many different materials with such rudimentary means. Somehow, with any Kings or Queens, these clans had managed to work together for progress._

* * *

Davos was nervous. Ingrid was unyielding and blunt. She did not behave like a proper Lady, not that she was by any means, but she had little sense of Westerosi decorum. And why should she? She was neither Westerosi nor was she a servant. She never had to learn such ways. No, Ingrid was a warrior and a leader, and behaved as such. Davos was not nervous for Ingrid, but rather himself. If Ingrid was not accepted, he had no doubt she and her people would be fine; they were smart, they would be safe. But Davos could not leave. If Ingrid was not accepted by his rulers, what would that mean for him, for his reputation, his trust?

"Ser Davos," Ingrid said lowly, placing her hand on his arm. "Do not fear."

Davos grinned in spite of himself. Ingrid was always good at reading emotions.

"I shall try not to." He said with a small bow. And then he opened the door.

* * *

_"If you don't mind me asking," Davos started, "Why do you train all the villagers to fight if you are surrounded by allies?" _

_Ingrid smiled at his naivety before biting off a hunk of jerky. Talking through the jerky in her mouth she said, "There are other clans that come, hoping to gain more than they have. Rival clans fueled by greed or jealously. We," Ingrid said, her smile turning bitter, as she swallowed, "Are not the only people on this world."_

_Davos froze, interested. No one in Westeros had thought that there was anything west of Westeros, and yet here he was. Why should there not be more? Of course there was. "Who else is there?" _

_Ingrid paused to eat and think. "There are others with more technology that arrived at Eurkos to bring medicines and remedies. Other came from the same place with diseases and weapons. The clans received all four and had to learn to survive. Some that come to conquer are more primitive, others more advanced than us." She shrugged. "To fight for what we have, we have to be ready to face anything. We take what we learn and we use it to build new strategies, develop new fighting methods, and create a better world."_

_Davos thought this was very wise of them, but he said nothing. It was amazing, he thought biting into his own jerky, that there were people that were so primitive, yet so more advanced than Westeros in many ways. Their society thrived. Davos looked around, there was a group of clansmen moving through drills with younger students; two men tinkered by the forge with metal Davos didn't recognize; a small class examining different plants and herbs; there were droves of people milling about and they were all happy. Davos noticed as he observed every small group, every lone clansman, that each and every one moved with purpose. Davos shook his head with wonder and took another bite of jerky._

* * *

Sansa did not like meeting new people like this. She could tell that Daenerys did not either. In the hall they could sit at the high table, in front of the people: powerful, composed, and in controlled. But in the council meeting, they were in a circle. There was no clear leader, no placement above the others, no way to see who was on top. Normally, Sansa would enjoy this because it placed her on equal footing with the men in the room. But now, having been the Lady of Winterfell, in the presence of a new leader, Sansa felt that the equal footing was more a hindrance than anything. She was glad that she had Arya. At least she knew that no matter what, Arya would side with her for the good of Winterfell. Jon was often too preoccupied with his new queen, and Bran, she never knew where Bran's head was anymore - probably somewhere in the past. Sansa still did not understand what Bran was now.

When Davos opened the door, they were all discussing battle strategies. The reinforcements from the North had arrived with news that the dead were almost here. Developing strategies was crucial. Upon hearing the door open, the room became silent. Everyone watched as Davos entered, followed by her. Sansa did not know who she was.

She knew that Davos had sent out ravens to anyone he would think of for help. She knew that Davos had told Jon of possible allies to the west of Westeros, a place Sansa had not even known existed. She knew that Davos had spent time with these allies and trusted them. But apart from that, Sansa knew nothing, and that bothered her. Too long she knew nothing. Sansa did not like not knowing. Not knowing meant not having control.

This new ally was a woman. A female warrior judging by the armor she wore and the sword on her hip. Sansa would have been surprised if she had not already known Brienne and Arya. This woman was tall, not as tall as her, maybe an inch or two shorter, but she was stronger. She held herself with poise and strength, like a ruler would. Her hair was pale and pulled back into braids that ran close to her scalp and ended in a ponytail. Her face was narrow, and her eyes were dark and stared boldly as they ran across the many faces in the room.

"Who are you?" The Queen said loudly, standing at the head of the head of the table.

"I am Ingrid." The woman said, matching Daenerys' pace and volume. "Chief of the Alpta clan of Eurkos."

"I have never heard of you." Daenerys replied, and Sansa wondered what her goal was to say that.

Ingrid did not appear slighted in the least by Daenerys' comment. In fact, she looked more amused than anything. "No, you wouldn't have."

Her eyes flicked around the room to observe the other faces before landing back on Daenerys. "You are Daenerys Targaryen." Ingrid said bluntly. "Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Sansa understand that many in positions of power liked to state the obvious, either to gage a response or to buy time to think. She was not sure what Ingrid was doing, but it seemed like the former.

"Yes." Said Daenerys unchanging.

"You want the throne of iron?"

"Yes."

Ingrid narrowed her eyes at Daenerys. Sansa wondered if she was trying to see into Daenerys' soul and wondered then what Ingrid saw. Whatever it was, she must have approved because then Ingrid nodded her head in a small bow.

"Your Grace." Next Ingrid turned her attention to Sansa's brother.

"You're Jon Snow, King of the North." And Sansa wondered again if Davos had mentioned them in preparation. Jon looked uncomfortable with the title and looked quickly at Daenerys as if to see her reaction to the title.

"I'm not really."

"You're not Jon Snow?" Ingrid questioned, frowning and tilting her head like a puppy.

"No," Jon said, tripping over his words, "I am, I'm just not the King. I bent the knee to my Queen." He made a motion towards Daenerys. Ingrid's eyes widened and she looked at Ser Davos.

"I am confused," She admitted, "Did your people not appoint you King?"

Jon looked even more uncomfortable. "Well, yes-"

"-If your people chose you as their King, then you are King." Ingrid said with no room for argument. Sansa thought that she made an excellent point and then smirked at Arya, who smirked back.

Ingrid made another small bow, "Your Grace."

Sansa suddenly found herself staring into Ingrid's eyes. They had depth to them. When she was young, Sansa thought that dark eyes were ugly. They reminded her of dark pools. But Ingrid's eyes were not ugly. They were intriguing.

"You are Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell."

"Yes." Sansa said, using her game face.

Ingrid gave another small bow, "My Lady." Sansa breathed.

Ingrid looked once more around the room, and took a step towards the table. "I do not know any of you." She said bluntly. Davos gave a quiet cough, still standing by the door.

"Why are you here, Ingrid, Chief of Alpta?" Daenerys said loudly, refusing to turn her body and only looking at Ingrid by angling her head. Sansa wondered if she knew how stupid she looked. She looked at Jon who was staring at Daenerys and fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Ingrid turned away from the table to face Daenerys fully. She cocked her head to the side and grinned, smiling with her teeth and not her eyes.

"Because I was asked." Davos coughed again. Sansa saw him hiding his face with his gloved hand. Ingrid turned back to the table and started studying the battle plans that were laid out.

"By Ser Davos." Daenerys stated.

Ingrid did not look up, "Yes."

"His is your friend."

"He has aided us in our time of need," Ingrid said, finally looking at Daenerys. "He is a friend of all Alpta people and a friend of mine."

Daenerys smiled. Sansa thought that this smile was faked. "If you are his friend, you are our friend."

Instead of smiling, Ingrid frowned. Not in anger, Sansa thought she looked more confused. "How can I be a friend with someone I do not know?"

The room sucked in a collective breath. Sansa had to admire Ingrid's boldness, regardless of her motives for doing so. Daenerys' gaze was sharp as her back stiffened. Ingrid carried on like nothing she had said was problematic. "We are allies. We will fight together." Ingrid's face brightened as she looked at Ser Davos, who was still hiding behind his glove. "Davos asked for aid, and so I shall provide some. If you tell me where to fight, I will fight." Her way of thinking was clear, unhindered by false pleasantries. Sansa found it refreshing and gloated in the fact that Ingrid had been talking to Daenerys and not her. Maybe this Ingrid is not so bad after all.

* * *

_As much as Davos hated fighting, he was excited to see the Alpta fight. He and his men had watched the clansmen train: all ages moving with strong limbs and fighting with all weapons. The Alpta taught their people to fight with versatility. Davos had seen two clansmen get into a fork fight over a piece of pudding, using their forks to guard the last bite or encroach on the other's portion of table. It had been all in good fun, but the way each flipped their forks and struck their hands had been a sight. _

_Battles with the Alpta, as well as the other clans on the island, were short notice. Attacking clans or foreign people gave each clan little time to prepare for a fight. This, Davos thought, was smart on the enemies' part, but it seeme to have little effect on the Alpta that he could see. This was just how things were done, and so they had to learn to move quickly, fight efficiently, communicate effectively, and strategize on the spot. It was obvious to Davos that they had done this before as he watched children gather the important supplies and head for the hills, covered with thick layers and weaponry. Adults dressed similarly, but instead of heavy armor, they wore tough leather and light mail, keeping their body weight light so they could move easily. Everyone had a job. Some went immediately to gather food, others to gather books. Most went towards the invaders, where they first heard the horn of battle. Ingrid at the front, ready to conduct treaty agreements if the invaders were amiable, battle calls if they were not. _

"_Ser Davos," called Bjornen, "Will you be fighting with us?" _

_Davos grinned, unsheathing his own sword, "Lead the way."_

* * *

"They're coming." If Ingrid had walked into the room with Davos, she would have figured the two women were leaders. They stood talk and looked down on the others in the room. But this King, he was humble. He waited in the shadows, and fumbled when Ingrid questioned him. But, Ingrid thought while listening to his speech, this King does have a way with words. "We have dragonglass and valyrian steel, but there are too many of them, far too many. Our enemy doesn't tire; doesn't stop; doesn't feel. We can't beat them in a straight fight."

"So what can we do?" One of the men standing around the table asked - a tall, blond man standing next to an even taller and blonder woman. This woman was a fighter, Ingrid observed staring at the woman's armor instead of the man talking.

"The Night King made them all; they follow his command. If he falls," the King took a deep breath, his eyes flitting around the room, "Getting to him may be our best chance."

The blond man spoke again, "If that's true, he'll never expose himself."

Ingrid was still unsure as to whom they were speaking of, but she was smart. She had won the Gatlopp when she was young because she was a fighter and a thinker. This 'Night King' they spoke of, she thought as her eyes moved between the two men speaking, he must be the leader of the dead. Interesting that even the dead needed rulers.

A man that Ingrid had not noticed spoke up, "Yes he will." This man was in a chair tucked in the corner of the room by the hearth. "He'll come for me. He's tried before many times with many three-eyed ravens." Ingrid did not know what 'three-eyed ravens' were but she doubted he was talking about birds. It seemed as if he was referring to himself, but how was he a bird? Ingrid frowned, confused. These people were very strange indeed.

"Why?" Asked the man next to him, "What does he want?"

"An endless night. He wants to erase this world and I am its memory." Ingrid looked at Davos in confusion. Why did he not explain anything to her? She felt annoyed at her ignorance. How can a man be a memory? Davos ignored her look and stared at the boy instead.

"That's what death is isn't it? Forgetting, being forgotten. If we forget where we've been, what we've done – we're not men anymore. Just animals. You're memories don't come from books, you're stories aren't just stories." There was a pause of silence as everyone took in this information. Ingrid thought of the stories and books and songs her people use to keep history alive. What would happen if everyone stopped singing and writing and telling stories in the torgus? Her people would be forgotten, like they never existed. Their histories would be forever lost to the future. Yes, Ingrid thought, this man was right. Death was forgetting.

"If I wanted to erase the world of men I'd start with you."

A little man spoke out from the opposite corner. "How will he find you?" Ingrid had heard about little men before. There were some in Eurkos, but she had never seen one before.

"His mark is on me." The sitting man said showing a burn on his arm. "He always knows where I am." Magic, thought Ingrid.

The King turned to this man saying, "We'll put you in the crypt where it's safest-"

"-No. We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood."

"You want us to use you as bait?" Lady Stark asked, her tone of voice suggesting she was not pleased with this idea. Ingrid wondered if the Lady was upset because they were close. She pondered their relationship: family or lovers?

"We're not leaving you alone out there –" The short girl on the other side of the King cut in. Family, Ingrid decided. This woman would not be upset if the two were lovers, unless she was also his lover, but Ingrid felt that unlikely.

"-He won't be." Another man interrupted. This one had shaggy hair and a determined face. "I'll stay with him, with the Ironborn. I took this castle from you; let me defend you now." Ingrid wondered who the 'iron born' were. How can one be born of iron? Were they men of iron? She did not understand the ways of these people, but she chose to take advantage of the pause in conversation.

"How many fighters do you have?" She asked this 'iron' man.

His head jerked towards her, surprised. His eyes briefly flickered towards the King and Lady Stark before returning back to hers. "Thirty." He swallowed. Ingrid frowned. If this sitting man needed protection, shouldn't they have more fighters protecting him? Perhaps they did not have the numbers.

Ingrid turned towards the sitting man she could barely see. "You are important, yes?" The man did not speak. Ingrid ignored this. "Protecting you is important?"

Again he did not speak. The others in the room all looked at the sitting man for answers that he did not give. Ingrid took this as an affirmative. She nodded. "Then we shall also protect you." She turned to face the man with shaggy hair. "I will send a clan to aid your fighters." The man looked surprised.

"How many men do you have?" The Queen asked suddenly. Ingrid turned to find the Queen looking at her.

"A thousand fighters." She answered. There was a collected intake of air from the room followed by quiet mumbling. The Queen widened her eyes slightly at the news. Ingrid amended her statement lest they get the wrong idea. "We have fewer horses."

The Queen looked at the little man by her side, then Ser Davos, then Ingrid. "I was under the impression your clans were small."

Ingrid raised her brow. "They are."

"How do you have one thousand men?" Ingrid now understood her shock.

"When Ser Davos asked for aid, I send my own message to the surround clans for aid. They answered my plea by sending some of their own fighters to go with me." Ingrid looked around to the room at the others lining the table. They were all watching her, some frowning, some with wide eyes, some with blank faces. "They sent fighters because they know me." Ingrid explained, looking back at the Queen. "They know I am a good fighter and a honorable chief and they trust my judgment. They know that if I am fighting someone else's war, it must be a great war."

Ingrid looked back at the 'iron' man. "You have thirty fighters; now you shall have double that. We are here to help, let us help." There was a certain amount of respect on this man's face, and the faces of some of the others in the room and Ingrid hoped that they would be willing to accept her aid. The man nodded once, and Ingrid nodded back, and the battle plans continued.

* * *

_A head flew by Davos' face. He balked. Davos knew that battles could be brutal, he had his share of fighting and it was always bloody. But he noticed a difference between the fighters in the clans of Eurkos and the bannermen in Westeros. These clans, these people, fought with every fiber of their being. Davos ducked as a sword came hurtling towards his head. _

_He was bloody, but not nearly as much as Aldvilde, who had decided she liked slicing her opponents open to prevent them from attacking. _

_Davos had noticed that the Alptan people were fiercely protective and very prideful. They did not waste any time running into battle, yelling loudly with their chosen weapon raised high above their heads. They were honorable yes, but firmly believed that all was fair in war. They used every circumstance to their advantage and would not give an inch. If they were overwhelmed in battle, it was due to numbers, not for lack of effort. _

_Ingrid was somewhere in the midst of the battle, shouting orders and rallying cries. Davos was amazed she had the energy to do so while she swung her axe around. A mace appeared in the peripheral of his vision and Davos jerked back, only for the weapon to halt. Bjornen gripped the handle of the weapon with his thick arms and tore the blade away from its owner, using the axe in his right hand to swing down into his opponent's head. Bjornen let his blade fall with the body and examined the new mace he held in his left hand. Flipping it once, he grinned, raised his brows at Davos, and sprinted back into the fray. _

_Once thing Davos was sure of, he never wanted to be on the opposing side of their blades. _

* * *

"What will you do now?" Davos asked as he and Ingrid exited the room with the rest of the council. "There should be a few hours until dawn."

"I must find the other chiefs." Ingrid replied. "Now that I have heard the battle plans, I need to tell the others." Davos hummed and continued walking, placing his arms behind his back.

"That man with the hair like fire," Ingrid started, her mind on an interesting interaction at the end of the meeting. "Why was he flirting with the tall blonde woman? Are they lovers?" Ingrid did not know these people. Sometimes she thought it was better this way if they were to die, but at other times she gave in to her curiosity. They live so differently; Ingrid wanted to understand them.

Davos started. "Tormund?" He questioned. Ingrid did not know what a 'tormund' was, but thought this might have been the man's name. She nodded.

"No," He chortled, "they are not lovers, although I suspect he wants them to be."

"Because he wants her or because he just wants?" Ingrid asked.

Davos shrugged, "With Tormund you never know. I suppose because she's a challenge for him, or because she's a fighter." Ingrid made a noise of acknowledgement.

"Either way, he is a man, and this may be his last night alive." Davos cast a sideways look at Ingrid. "Are you asking for any particular reason?" Ingrid understood what he was asking by his sly smile and twinkling eyes. She barked out a laugh and hit his arm.

"If this is to be my last night, I will not be spending it with a man I do not know." She shook her head at his foolishness. "I will be spending it with friends."

"Chief Ingrid!" called a voice from behind her. Ingrid and Davos turned to see the little man walking towards them. "May I have a word?" He asked, as he got closer.

Ingrid turned to look at Davos, who grinned, touched her shoulder, and walked away.

"What is your name?" Ingrid asked before the little man stopped in front of her. He frowned and said, "No, I suppose you would not know my name." He look up at her face and smiled. "I am Tyrion Lannister."

"And what is it that you want Tyrion Lannister?" Ingrid asked with a friendly smile of her own. Tyrion moved to stand closer to her, but angled his body so he was looking over the railing towards to the courtyard. Ingrid copied his movement slightly, keeping her shoulders facing him. "I thought you were speaking with the man in the chair."

Tyrion grinned at her description. "Bran, yes I was." He frowned in thought. "But then he hinted that I should speak with you." He looked at her again and then realized that he had never answered her question. "Ser Davos says that you are a good fighter."

Ingrid nodded, "I am."

"He also said that you are a good strategist."

"I am."

"What do you think of our strategy?"

Ingrid narrowed her eyes, observing the many stations still at work as the night settled. "I think you do not have enough men."

"Yes, I think you are right."

"You are lucky that we have come." Ingrid said. "We will fill the empty spaces your men cannot fill."

Tyrion nodded, once again looking up at Ingrid. "I wanted to thank you, as Hand of the Queen; we are grateful for your aid."

Ingrid looked back at Tyrion and cocked her head. "Does the Queen not have two hands, she must appoint another to be one?" She did not understand these people. She could not tell when they were being literal and when they were using an expression. She worried if she was becoming lax in her observations for she had not noticed that the Queen had only one hand.

Tyrion took a moment to understand her question before he burst out in laughter. "No, no, it means that I am her second; her closest advisor." He explained. "Do you not have a name for that? What do you call your closest advisors in Eurkos?"

"My closest advisor."

"…That is easy to remember."

"Yes." There was a pause of silence, uncomfortable as Tyrion rocked back and forth on his heels searching for a response. Ingrid, bypassing Tyrion's awkward fumble, drew his attention to another one of her questions. This man was notable for his brain, she remembered. He would be able to answer many of her questions.

"You are not fighting." She stated, remembering the conversation that happened during the meeting.

"No." Tyrion replied, unhappy at this turn of events. "My Queen wants me in the crypts instead." Ingrid nodded, glad that he had brought up the topic of her question.

"What are 'the crypts'?" She asked.

Tyrion drew out of his discontented state, "You don't have crypts where you're from?" Ingrid shook her head in response.

"They are where we bury our dead. Well," He amended, "the dead of ancient houses at least."

"You bury your dead?" Ingrid thought this was interesting. She never heard of burying the dead before. Why would they confine their families' bones underground when they could be free to ride the winds? She wondered how this tradition came to be.

"You don't?" Tyrion asked, surprised.

Ingrid shook her head again. "No, we burn them."

"All of them?"

"We do not have the choice." Ingrid explained, understanding that this man was curious as well. "If we are attacked by invaders stronger that us, we must be ready to leave at any time. We cannot carry our ancestors' bones with us." She said indignantly.

"No," Tyrion said quietly. "No, I suppose not." After a short while he spoke again. "Well, at least you would be safe from the Night King's army. If you burn the bodies, he would have no bodies to join his army of dead."

Throughout the day, Ingrid slowly understood the enemy she would be facing soon. This Night King was strong. He commanded dead that had risen with magic, able to fight through any hurt because they were already dead.

"The Night King can raise your dead?" She clarified.

"Yes, because we don't burn them."

"Instead," Ingrid raised a brow, staring hard at Tyrion's face. "You bury them in crypts."

Tyrion frown confused at her tone. "Yes, that is what I said, we bury…" His face changed drastically from confusion to horror. "Oh, gods." He whispered before turning abruptly and striding back towards the council room.

Ingrid wondered if he also realized that burying the dead was a foolish tradition. She turned back around to continue on her original task of finding the other chiefs. What a strange little man, she thought as she descended the stairs.

* * *

_As much as Davos liked staying with the Alpta, there were things in Westeros he missed. Like wine. Davos was sorely disappointed to find that Eurkos did not grow grapes, and so they did not have red wine. They had other beverages of course: ale, brandy, honey mead, and clean water that they get from freshwater mountain springs, but no wine. And Davos missed wine. _

_Davos noticed that they did not have some of the same goods Westeros and Essos had. In some cases, they could not grow tropical foods due to their cooler climate. However, they were also allies and trade partners with the warmer islands to the southwest, which grew such foods, except grapes. And the ships that were built at the docks of Flokavaroi were efficient for travel and trade, or so Davos had been told. _

_Nevertheless, it seemed to Davos the longer he stayed that these clans were incredibly knowledgeable and advanced in some ways: they were able to use indoor plumbing and warm water, they conducted energy by burning stones called 'coal,' they made inventions that aided with daily life, war, and travel; it was clear that the Alpta were capable of a great many things. But, Davos through wryly drinking his mead and wishing it was wine, they were still not as advanced as he would like._

* * *

Ingrid stood in the cold night air watching the some of the Eurkosian smiths help the Winterfell smiths with the new dragonglass weapons. She was glad they could offer their services; it was important that everyone had one dragonglass blade. Ingrid turned her head when she heard footsteps coming up behind her.

"Chief Deildara had agreed to send her clan to the Godswood to protect the man in the chair." Aldvilde said, stopped at Ingrid's side.

"Bran," Ingrid corrected, remembering his name. "And the others?"

"Odesass will take his people to the battlements. He has the best archers." Aldvilde mildly explained. Ingrid knew this, but accepted the explanation with a nod. "Two clansmen are going to protect the ones in the crypts. The other clansmen have agreed to fill in the empty spaces."

"Good." Ingrid said, finally looking at Aldvilde. "We will be more helpful if we are moving. It is almost time, everyone should be resting while they can." Aldvilde nodded, shouting at Bjornen to convey the message before turning back to Ingrid.

Ingrid gave Aldvilde a look, "I could have done that." Aldvilde shrugged with a smile, "But you didn't. I did."

Ingrid rolled her eyes and looked away. "It may be our last hours, what would you like to do?" She asked.

Aldvilde grinned wolfishly, giving Ingrid a side-glance, "I want a man."

Ingrid scoffed.

"What?" Aldvilde exclaimed. "I want to enjoy myself on my last night alive!"

"Of course!" Cried Ingrid. "And here I thought you'd want to spend your last night with your best friend!"

"Bah! If you are my best friend, you would know me better." Aldvilde laughed, knocking Ingrid in the arm. Ingrid laughed in response, and angled her body, causing Aldvilde to miss.

"If you are wanting a man," Ingrid said, thinking of a past conversation, "I might know of one who is offering."

"Not Bjornen?" Aldvilde said, worried.

Ingrid laughed again, "Not Bjornen." She verified. "A wild man."

Aldvilde's eyes brightened and Ingrid grinned at her friend's excitement.

"Come," She threw her arm around Aldvilde's neck and led her towards the castle, "We shall find you a wild man!"

The two clansmen laughed as they searched the castle together. They found a small group of Westeros soldiers sitting by the hearth and stopped to listen as one sang. Hiding in the shadows, they waited. His song was melancholy and made Ingrid ache.

"That was beautiful," Ingrid said after he had finished.

The small group turned to see who spoke and Ingrid was able to see their faces. Ser Davos grinned upon seeing her and stood, moving to add another chair to the circle. The singing man moved to grab one as well before Aldvilde stepped it. "No, thank you. I will not be staying." Both men stopped, confused.

"Why not?"

Aldvilde grinned and stood in front of the wild man. "You." She said, commanding the attention of the room. "Have you ever had a woman from Eurkos?"

The wild man stared blankly for a moment before he too grinned. "No."

"Well, you will now." Aldvilde grabbed his collar and dragged him out of the room, uncaring of the audience she had procured.

Once they left, there was a small pattering of laughter and Ingrid sheepishly excused Aldvilde's behavior. "Aldvilde can be aggressive when she wants to be." This caused another round of light laughter before Davos moved back to his seat.

"Well, since Tormund is gone, you can have his seat."

"I know some of you," Ingrid said as she sat. Davos was there, of course, and the little man called Tyrion. "But I do not know you." She faced the tall woman she was seated by.

"I am Ser Brienne." She introduced with a big smile that made her face glow. Ingrid could not help by smile too.

"Ah! So you are a knight too!" She said, thinking back to her conversations with Ser Davos.

Ser Brienne's smile became impossibly larger. "Yes, I am."

"She just became one, in fact." Tyrion said, grinning and holding his goblet.

Ingrid did not understand the technicalities behind being a knight, but she understood that this was a special occasion for Ser Brienne. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Who are you?" Ingrid asked the man that had spoken at the council meeting. She had noticed upon sitting that he had a hand of gold.

"Jaime Lannister." He introduced, dipping his head.

"Oh!" Ingrid said, recognizing the name. "So you are brothers?" She asked, gesturing to both Jaime and Tyrion. The two men nodded. Tyrion added, "Ser Jaime is also a knight."

"Are there many knights?" Ingrid asked.

"Yes," Jaime sighed, "Very many." Ingrid nodded, understanding that these knights are warriors. Of course they would need many to protect their large cities.

"Who are you?" Ingrid asked that last man, the one who had sung.

"Podrick Payne my lady," He said bowing, "I am Ser Brienne's squire."

Ingrid kept a smile on her face as her confusion bled through. "Squire? I do not know what that is."

Tyrion chuckled, "First you do not know what crypts are, and now you do not know squires?" He lifted his glass, ready to take a drink. "You must have a very strange culture, Chief Ingrid."

"No more than yours." Ingrid shrugged.

"Will you tell us my lady?" Podrick asked, leaning forward.

"Yes," Ingrid said, mimicking his stance. "As long as you stop calling me 'my lady'."

There was another round of laughter before everyone settled into their chairs ready to listen as Ingrid described life in Eurkos.

* * *

_"We wish you a safe journey and pray for your health." Ingrid said, standing in front of Ser Davos as supplies was loading into a rowboat. _

"_Thank you," Davos replied, graciously. He watched at a grate of food was carried to the boat. "You have been very generous. I wish there was some way to repay you." He moved to offer her some money, but she stopped him. _

"_No." Ingrid said. "You have done much for my people. You have given us knowledge on many subjects. You have helped us win battles. You have healed my people and given me council." Ingrid smiled, "I do not take this assistance for granted."_

_She held out a hand towards Davos. "If you find yourself in need of aid…"_

_Davos grinned, shocked by her offer but pleased nonetheless. He gripped her hand in a tight handshake, shaking as she tightened her grip on his hand. "…I know where to send a raven." He finished, smiling. _

_Ingrid grinned back, baring her teeth, before stepping back into line with her clansmen. _

"_Until we meet again Ser Davos."_

* * *

AN: I tried to keep the GOT characters as canon as possible. Let me know how I did!

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	2. The Battle of Winterfell

West of Westeros

Chapter 2; The Battle of Winterfell

Okay, I guess this will not be a one-shot. This chapter follows the plot of 8x03/8x04. It is also a bit shorter than the other one, but I wanted this chapter to focus on the battle and the consequences and this is what came out...so...there you go.

I want to take a second to thank everyone that reviewed, followed, or favorited this story. It means a lot!

Once again: I don't own anything of GOT, only the original characters.

* * *

Ingrid was used to the smell of the dead. While the air in Eurkos was fresh, it was not without its share of death. But Ingrid knew she would never forget the smell of thousands of rotting bodies for as long as she lived.

She stood overseeing a group of surviving clansmen as they dug through piles of dead searching for survivors. Ingrid doubted they would find any as the pile was so dense, any unlucky enough to still be alive when the pile was created was surely dead now, suffocated underneath the intense weight and stench. Snow crunched behind her as Bjornen approached.

"How many?"

"Almost six hundred." Bjornen replied. "There are more coming in from beyond the walls."

When Ingrid gave no reply, Bjornen added, "Almost all in the Godswood were killed."

Ingrid's stomach gave a lurch but she showed no response. Six hundred dead: out of one thousand clansmen. Ingrid hated the devastation. She hated even more that she knew the damage would have been worse had there not been six hundred bodies sacrificed.

"Deildara is dead, but ten of her clansmen are not. They said that she fought bravely; she saved many lives."

"Yes." Ingrid said quietly. "Many lives were saved tonight."

Bjornen shifted, crunching the snow beneath his feet. Ingrid refused to look at him; she knew what she would see. Bjornen's tall, hulking figure, covered in blood and innards like the rest of the survivors, with a sad expression and even sadder eyes. Ingrid did not want to see this. She did not want to see her clansmen searching through a pile of dead bodies, but she'd rather that than Bjornen's sad eyes.

"Ingrid-" Bjornen said softly, briefly, scarcely, touching Ingrid's arm before she tore it away.

"Thank you, Bjornen." She said firmly. "Go help the others."

"Yes Chief." Bjornen swallowed before walking away.

* * *

_Ingrid knew she would never forget the sounds of their cheering. The Gatlopp was the top source of entertainment for the clans, and it only came after the death of the chief: a simultaneous celebration of life and death. Ingrid had prevailed through all the other trials, but this last one. She had proven her intelligence, stealth, diplomacy, and strategy. Finally, Ingrid would prove herself in combat. _

_Aldvilde was screaming from the sidelines. Poor Aldvilde, Ingrid grinned, she had lost during the diplomacy trial. Ingrid knew she would; Aldvilde did not have much patience and preferred to use her fists when words would suffice. But Aldvilde was not upset. She had entered the Gatlopp on a whim, and had no desire to truly be chief of Alpta. Ingrid did not either, but she also did not want Sorli to win the Gatlopp. If Sorli became chief, Ingrid would leave. Sorli was arrogant and too prideful for leadership. Ingrid would not follow him into battle, though he may be a great fighter. _

"_Destroy him, Ingrid!" Aldvilde yelled, following her cry with a variety of threats and obscenities towards Sorli. _

_Ingrid could not help but grin at Aldvilde's behavior as she watched Sorli circle her. His muscles rippled as he prowled, turning his head this way and that, shifting his grip on his sword, searching for an opening. Ingrid waited. She was smaller and lighter; Ingrid would have to be quick to defeat Sorli. _

_With a barbaric scream, Sorli surged forward, slashing with his sword. He used his body weight to bring the sword down, scraping Ingrid's doublet as she served out of the way of his powerful arc. Cries from the clansmen grew in volume. They stamped their feet and hit their shields. Ingrid's heart pounded in time with their rhythms as adrenaline swelled within her. _

_Sorli swung again, forcing Ingrid to guard her face with her own sword. Sorli was strong and Ingrid had to duck underneath his raised arm to avoid cutting her face. Facing his back, Ingrid kicked out at his knees, causing him to stumble. But Sorli quickly recovered and swung around, foregoing the sword and using his arm to knock Ingrid off her feet and into the dirt. _

_Gasping for breath, Ingrid swiped her foot against his own, taking him off his feet as well. She scrambled to her feet, gripping her sword just in time to meet his as Sorli once again attacked. With a sharp flick, Ingrid sidestepped and drove her sword against the hilt of his, disarming Sorli. _

_Unperturbed, Sorli used his leather-covered forearms to guard against her blows, and managed to grab her wrist. He squeezed, shocking her bones and forcing her to drop the sword. Ingrid swiftly turned and used her elbow to hit Sorli's nose. He immediately dropped her wrist and held his face. Blood flowed from between his palms and he flicked the blood off of them, growling. _

"_Finish him! Ingrid, finish it!"_

_Sorli threw his body at Ingrid, and she had just enough time to grab his wrist, twist it, and throw herself on his back. Sorli's thick body tripped with the unexpected weight and Ingrid used this to her advantage. She wrapped her arms around his neck and used the inside of her arm to trap his head. Her legs tightened their hold around his hips to keep her body in place as his arm went to the back of her head. He pulled at her hair. Sharp pain radiated from Ingrid's scalp and she cried out. Her head jerked back, but she kept her grip firm. _

"_Yield!" The clansmen screamed. "Yield!" _

_Sorli collapsed his body, slamming Ingrid to the ground underneath his weight. She gasped in pain. _

"_I will not yield!" He spit out, blood dripping from his nose. As he moved to right himself on his feet, he turned to find a sword pointed at his neck. He stopped. _

_Ingrid had to rebalance herself, and in doing so, the sword's sharp point pressed down into the skin of Sorli's neck. She swallowed, her throat dry, her chest heaving with exertion. _

"_Yield." She stated. And the clansmen cheered._

* * *

"I am sorry for your loses." Davos said coming up to Ingrid as she helped a soldier place another body on the cart. They were transferring all of the dead outside of the walls. Ingrid's heart clenched at the sound of Davos' voice and her head shot up. Taking in his appearance, Ingrid breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," She said, "I am sorry about yours as well."

Davos stopped in front of Ingrid and smiled grimly.

"I am glad that you're alive."

Ingrid blinked as a tear ran down her cheek. She gripped Davos in a fierce hug. He returned her hug with equal strength. Coughing as they stepped away from each other, Ingrid asked him if they had found any other survivors.

"Some," Davos replied, "There were a few that were injured that were found. Theon Grayjoy had been stabbed, but apparently your friend, Chief Deildara, had saved him from a worse fate."

Ingrid nodded, "Yes, I had heard."

"The clansmen in the crypts were found." Davos said, steadying her with a hand. "They were among the dead."

"The children?"

"Alive, thanks to their protection."

"Good." Ingrid said, staring at Davos' face. "That is what they were there for."

Davos nodded. He placed his hands of her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Ingrid," He said, "Your people have done so much for us. We will never be able to repay your sacrifice. We will never forget what you have done here."

Ingrid gripped his shoulders in response. "What we have done here." She said. "We all fought for life; now we have that chance. You are once of us, and we of you. The world will know of the sacrifice and the fellowship we have shown today."

* * *

_When Aldvilde saw the witch light up the swords of the Dothraki, she felt proud. She was a part of this magnificent army fighting in a grand battle for life. They had thousands of fighters. And now had swords of fire, ready to cut down the hoards of dead that will surely block their paths. _

_The fire spread from blade to blade, lighting the sky around them, and it set Aldvilde's heart aflame. She loved the anticipation: the feel of her blood pumping in her ears and the tense lock of her muscles. She was a part of something big, bigger than anything she had ever been a part of before. She felt important, invincible. _

_Now, looking at the dead space where the Dothraki once stood, Aldvilde felt none of this. The Dothraki ran, screaming, into the blackness. And like the wasteland around them, had been consumed by the blackness. War cries turned into scream of pain and fear. Some had returned; most had not. _

_Aldvilde had trained herself, back when she had first lost her parents and the other clansmen thought her weak for being poor at combat, to harden herself against heartache. Aldvilde had grown learning to hide her pain, her fear, and her sadness. When Aldvilde learned how to fight, she wore her talents as amour, shielding herself from the world. It had taken befriending Ingrid for her to realize, hiding was fear. It was Ingrid who brought her back, who gave her laughter and friendship and someone to call family again. With Ingrid, and later Bjornen, Aldvilde had no reason to hide away from the world. Those that had called her weak soon called her strong, for both her combat skills and her loyalty. _

_When Aldvilde saw the Dothraki fire dissipate, she showed no outward emotion. But Ingrid, dear Ingrid, had somehow always known how Aldvilde was feeling. Standing there in the cold and dark, watching hundreds of Dothraki lose the fight to death, Aldvilde felt a warm hand wrap around hers. _

"_Aldvilde," Ingrid said, staring hard into Aldvilde's eyes. "Have courage."_

_Aldvilde squeezed Ingrid's fingers and stared back. _

"_Do you remember what we do with fear?"_

_Aldvilde remembered the first time Ingrid said that to her. When she was smaller and harder and refused to give an inch. Ingrid had told her: _"Do not hide yourself from your friends. Hiding is refusing to accept who you are. Hiding is fear. Do you know what we do with fear? We swallow it and let it become the fuel we use to fight."

_Aldvilde smiled. Her back straightened as her resolve returned. She would fight; she would take her fear and use it to fight stronger and faster for her and her family and their future. Aldvilde gripped Ingrid's hand as she turned to face the dead. _

"_We swallow it."_

* * *

"My lady, please." Implored one of the mothers helping the injured.

"I will not." Ingrid said stubbornly. "There are others more in need of healing than I. And do not called me 'my lady,'" She added, frowning. "I neither yours nor a lady." Ingrid shook her head at the silly phrase.

Arya watched silently from the shadows as Ingrid went around the makeshift hospital, helping the wounded and directing her people where to go. They had run into each other earlier that night. Well, when Arya says 'ran into each other'…

Regardless, Jon and Sansa had practically forced Arya to go to the hall for healing. Arya had disagreed. Similar to how Ingrid was protesting, Arya believed that a little bump on her head and a few bruises were miniscule compared to some of these soldiers that had lost whole limbs.

When she arrived at the hall where the injured were gathered, she stopped to wait in the shadows. It was there she saw Ingrid and decided to observe the strange Chief. This woman that had the others scrambling around with respect, and in some cases fear. People did that to her, and Sansa, and even the Dragon Queen at times. What made this woman deserving of that behavior she wondered.

Sure, she was a good fighter. Arya could attest to that. And Arya had seen the way she commanded a room during the council meeting. She supposed if Arya was being honest, this Chief was honorable and brave. But Arya also could see that she was weak. Like all the other so-called rulers: she let her emotions be seen by the world. This was dangerous. Even now, as Ingrid walked from cot to cot, her tear streaks were easily seen cutting through the grime on her face. Arya knew that Ingrid was smart. She could not figure her out.

In her peripherals, Arya saw the wildling, Tormund, walking towards the female Chief. As he greeted her, she smiled but more tears fell down her face. Arya crept closer to hear their conversation.

"Thank you." Ingrid said, as Arya finally came closer enough to hear their quiet mutterings.

"I saw you fighting." Tormund said gruffly, "You fought well. Reminds me of the women in the North."

Ingrid nodded her head, "Thank you." She said again.

"I wanted…" Tormund looked down and swung his blade from side to side, uncaring of the wounded surrounding him. "Last night." He sighed, looking back at Ingrid. "I never…I'm sorry."

Ingrid frowned. "Why are you sorry?" She asked, and Arya heard the indignance in her voice. She was insulted. "She did what she wanted. Why should anyone be sorry for that?" Ingrid moved to another cot.

"She lived her life the way she wanted. How could I be anything but inspired?"

Tormund smiled, differently from his usual wolfish grin. He gripped Ingrid's shoulder and shook it, laughing. "Yes! That is how it should be!" He pulled her closer by her shoulder. Arya saw him angle his head towards her and wondered if they were lovers. What information was she missing? She leaned forwards and strained to hear what Tormund murmured to Ingrid.

Instead she heard him as he stepped back, wiping Ingrid's face. "No more tears, then, yes?" He said, shifting slightly as if uncomfortable. Arya wanted to roll her eyes. It was typical of men to be uncomfortable by the sight of tearful women. Arya was surprised when instead of acting chastened; Ingrid shook her head and lifted it, showing off the tear streaks on her face.

"Showing grief is not a weakness." She said strongly. "Why should I be ashamed to show others that I loved so deeply I would shed tears for another?"

Tormund smiled and laughed at the response. "Right again." He said, gripping her shoulder one last time before leaving.

Arya stayed where she was, thinking. Ingrid went back to her duties, directing others on what they should do and providing comfort for the wounded. Arya watched her closely. The clansmen Ingrid came in contact with didn't scoff at her when she ordered them. They didn't try to comfort her or pity her. They just accepted their orders and went about completing them.

Arya got up slowly and turned away. Maybe, Arya thought as she left in search of Gendry, Arya didn't know this woman Chief as well as she thought.

* * *

_There were more dead people than Arya had ever seen. She had done some damage with her new weapon, but they were still coming. Decaying bodies moving with the same vigor as a well-bodied fighter. Arya turned to flee down the stairs from a hoard coming up the battlement, but the stairway was block by another group of dead. _

_Arya looked between the two groups, looking for escape. There was no way around it; Arya flung her body down the stairway. She used their bodies as a ramp, rolling down until she landed at the bottom. She tried to catch her balance upon landing, but one of the dead shifted and she crashed, slamming her head against the stones. She had barely enough time to regain her wits before more dead were after her again. _

_Arya turned and lashed out at one. She pushed it back, but she had lost her staff somewhere on the battlement and didn't have a way to kill it. Instead of stalling, the wight flung its arm against her back, propelling her into the wall. She smashed her head against the stones and collapsed. _

_Pain flashed through her head. Arya caught herself against the stones and flipped onto her back. Already she could feel the blood welling and dripping down her face. Dazed, Arya watched as wights fought against each other to get through the doorway. This was insane, Arya thought. The dead didn't move with intelligence, they just moved. _

Death…Death, that's what they're like. _Gendry had said. Arya believed him; she always believed him, but she didn't expect this. She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't this. _

_Arya gathered her arms beneath her and forced her mind to focus. As she fought with herself, Arya noticed that the dead were pushing against themselves with more force, trying to get their bodies through the doorway. One wight fell away from the pile, then another. Once the one on the right fell away, the wight on the left was free to pursue her. Adrenaline coursed through her body as Arya snapped back into action. She scrambled away from the dead moving towards her. Suddenly the wight collapsed in front of her, one of Gendry's dragonglass axes sticking out of its back. _

_The woman, Chief Ingrid from the council meeting, stepped forward and yanked the ax out of the wight, dark goop spattering. She stepped towards Arya, ax in hand, with a dark look on her face. Arya waited on the ground. _

_After a short look between the two women, the Chief held out a hand. This woman had stepped up during the council meeting, had stepped up during the preparations, and had stepped in now to aid Arya. If Arya had been thinking clearly, perhaps she would have been more suspicious of a woman she didn't know, who came here seemingly out of nowhere. But Arya's head was still rattled from being hit twice in such a short time. So, she grabbed her hand and let the Chief pull her to her feet. _

_The woman shoved the ax into Arya's hands, briefly gripped her shoulders, and then angled her face up to look at her eyes. With a quick study, the Chief nodded, her eyes staring deeply into Arya's as if to gage her wellness and agility all at once. She stepped back, took one last look at Arya, and threw herself back the way she came. _

_Confused, curious, and shaken (either from recent events or her injuries, Arya wouldn't say), Arya turned and continued on, running to find a place to recuperate before killing more dead men._

* * *

Matthos liked this Chief. She was kind and didn't think she was too high to bandage the injured. This new ally, the one that Ser Davos supposedly brought from the west, was a beautiful warrior. Matthos' own wife was beautiful, but she was no fighter. She was tiny and meek. Matthos couldn't picture her killing anything. But this Chief, she was a fighter, Matthos could tell.

She didn't talk much. As she bandaged his arm, the Chief would ask Matthos questions about everything and he would answer.

"My brother was fighting." Matthos said, answering her question. "I don't know what became of him. I haven't seen him since the start."

The Chief looked up briefly from her work before looking back at the wound she was cleaning.

"He is probably dead. A lot of brothers are dead." Matthos hated that so many lives were taken in this war. It was awful, one of the worst he had ever been in.

"Yes," The Chief said quietly, "There were many lost."

"Did you lose someone?"

"Yes. We all lost someone." The Chief said with a sad smile. She dabbed his arm with ointment and reached for the wrappings.

"That's true." Matthos said nodding. "I am grateful Lythia was in the crypts. Almost all who were in the crypts lived."

The Chief smiled, her eyes looked happy. "I am glad! That is great news!"

He smiled back, "Yes!" He thought of his wife and child who had been safe from the battle. "My family is still alive. That is great news."

"We must be thankful for those that are with us still, and live for those that are gone."

Matthos smiled again. He liked this Chief. "Yes, we must."

* * *

_Ingrid stepped over a pile of dead bodies. The number of piles grew every time Ingrid stopped to view them. There were men that fought for them that the wights had killed, and wights that the men had killed, all piled on top of each other in various locations across the castle. It was unlike anything Ingrid had ever seen. And still, she was killing walking corpses. _

_She felt disgusting. She had blood crusting over her face, black goo dripping over her leathers; she was sure her entire body had turned into one big bruise, but she kept going. _

_Ingrid had started the fight at the front, but as she hacked at the attacking forces, Ingrid soon realized that the dead were running to the castle, regardless of the numerous blockages preventing them, they were getting through. There were not enough of them to stop the dead from getting past them. While the others retreated and used magic to light the trench on fire, she took Aldvilde and Bjornen by the hand, calling for ten of her clansmen, and ran for the castle hoping to add another barrier between the castle and the dead. But as the dead swarmed the castle battlements, Ingrid lost sight of Bjornen and Aldvilde. She hoped they were uninjured but she could not think of them when she was fighting. Distracted fighting caused death. _

_As the night went on, Ingrid's arms grew heavy with the constant movement. At some point, she had lost her original weapon, but there were plenty of dead soldiers who were no longer using their dragonglass weapons and Ingrid had not felt guilty using them to swing at the dead closing in around her. After giving up an ax to the young Lady Stark, Ingrid had grabbed two more. Spinning between groups of dead, Ingrid slashed and hacked with both hands. _

_She had to keep moving. Wherever she turned, there was another corpse. Ingrid held up her axes and faced another group coming towards her. She stabbed one in the head, yanking the ax out and moving on to the next, which she stabbed in the neck. She ploughed through crowds of dead. Using her body momentum, Ingrid swung around and stabbed a corpse coming up behind her. But it was wearing a thick coat of fur and the ax could not go deep enough to kill it. Ingrid used her other ax and cut off the corpse's arm holding a sword it used to try to stab her. With one arm dealt with, Ingrid could properly reach its head and the corpse dropped, finally dead. Ingrid reached down to retrieve the ax stuck in the midst of fur, but more dead were coming and she did not have time to try to fight with the ax. With no weapons in hand, Ingrid was forced to use the dead thing's arm to whack the oncoming dead in the face, before using the broken bone to stab the corpse in the eye, allowing her enough time to tear her ax out of the dead corpse's head and use it to kill the other. _

_Ingrid swung around, preparing for another onslaught of dead, but there were none. All around her Ingrid could see the few living soldiers surrounded by grounded bodies, both of the Night King's army and the army of the living. With no more animated dead in sight, Ingrid used her short reprieve to take a deep breath. She lowered her arms, feeling them shake with exertion, and wished she could bath to ease her aching muscles. _

_However, right when she allowed herself some peace, the bodies on the ground shifted. Ingrid stiffened, tightening her grip on her ax, and looked around at the bodies littering the ground. _

_One by one, the bodies of the dead Winterfell soldiers opened their eyes and started to rise. Ingrid had a sinking feeling in her stomach. All of the soldiers that had not been killed with dragonglass were now reanimated. _

_Ingrid readied herself to start killing dead men. But it seemed that no matter how many she killed, there were ten more to replace them. Ingrid tried to swallow her fear, but she could not swallow. Her throat was dry and something was clawing its way out. She was boxed in. Ingrid frantically looked around, hoping to find a way out, or at the very least another person still alive. But she saw nothing and no one but dead corpses screeching at her. _

_Breathing deeply, Ingrid tried to ground herself as she hacked an opening between the many dead bodies to escape through. She forced herself through the tiny opening, keeping an ax ready to dissuade any corpses from getting too close. She made her way to a separate part of the castle, heading down the stairs towards the courtyard. Her breathing was coming out shallow, and Ingrid could not seem to focus. _

_There were even more dead in the courtyard than on the battlements, and Ingrid cursed herself for believing she could get away. There was no escape – not here in the midst of the dead. _

_The dead had backed her towards a stairwell. She tried to kill as many as she could and she prayed that she would have enough energy to last, but as the night went on Ingrid feared she could not be able to outlast the dead. She thought blankly that at least she made preparations for another Gatlopp before she left. She also wondered if there would be anyone left after this night. _

_She smashed her blade into the face of another corpse and turned ready to take on another when she stopped. Her breath left her body in a gush. Her eyes blinked. Her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Her arms fell slack against her body. _

_Standing in front of her was Aldvilde. A dead, reanimated, bloodied Aldvilde. _

_Ingrid could tell you exactly how her friend died. There was an ugly slash right across her throat. But dead Aldvilde did not seem to notice, she keep on, sword raised and her mouth gaping in a horrid scream. _

_All at once, Ingrid realized what happened, what she was seeing, and she gasped air back into her body. Once air filled her lungs again, air started filtering through her body at an alarming pace. _

"_No…no…no…no…" Whose voice was this Ingrid wondered. Another gasp tore through her body. _

"_Aldvilde…" she whimpered. Aldvilde did nothing but cry out a startling screech. She ran towards her, sword posed to strike, but Ingrid got there first. She swiped her blade across Aldvilde's neck, overlapping her already gruesome wound, and screamed out her pain and anger. Aldvilde dropped. _

_Ingrid fell to her knees, sobbing and shaking. She wanted to cradle Aldvilde's body and cry forever. She wanted to lie down and never get up. But there were more dead surrounding her and she could not afford to let them win. Not when she had others relying on her. Not when Aldvilde died for their cause. If Ingrid died tonight, she would take as many as she could with her. Resolved, Ingrid got up and continued on._

* * *

They had spent the better part of the morning building pyres for the burning. Logically, Ingrid knew that the bodies would not be reanimated, but she appreciated their newfound desire to burn their dead.

Despite the thousand warriors Ingrid brought to aid in the fight, they still lost a large number of fighters. Almost half of all the armies were gone. Ingrid could not believe that one night could do so much damage. She suspected that the Night King's raising of the dead had the most to do with their decreased numbers.

As she waited for the ceremony to begin, Ingrid witnessed many of the leaders saying their last goodbyes to their fallen loved ones. Ingrid had already said goodbye to Aldvilde and her fellow men. She had dressed Aldvilde to cover her wounds so she would look nice when she was accepted into the Great Unknown. Surely they would welcome her for her valor and strength, if not for her loving nature. A tear ran down Ingrid's cheek, following the track left by its predecessor.

Ingrid waited as the Queen walked back, the last of the few to say goodbye. And then the King in the North began speaking.

"We are here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters; to our fathers and mothers; to our friends;" Ingrid looked to where Aldvilde was lying, in a pyre for all of the clansmen that came east to fight and lost their lives doing so. Bjornen came closer to Ingrid and grabbed her hand. Ingrid did not know if he did it for her or himself; possibly for both of them.

"Our fellow man and women who set aside their differences to fight together and die together so that others might live." The King said loudly. "Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our duty and honor to keep them alive in memory. For those who come after us, and those who come after them, for as long as men draw breath. They were the shields that guarded the realms of men, and we shall never see their light again." Ingrid turned to receive the burning arrow she could shoot into Aldvilde's pyre.

She would not abandon her traditions in this strange land. Aldvilde deserved an Alptan funeral, and so that is what she, Deildara, and all the others from Eurkos would receive for their sacrifice.

One by one the leaders of the armies of Westeros took torches in hand and walked towards their designated pyres. One by one, they lit the pyres, lying to rest all of their loved ones.

As the last pyre was lit, a burning arrow flew through the air and hit a young Alptan warrior's chest, lighting her on fire, the fire spreading to the other bodies lying on the pyre. Another arrow came striking down on the body lying next to hers. Soon a flurry of arrows landed around the pyre, speeding up the process and causing fire to catch.

Ingrid and Bjornen stood side by side, watching their friend disappear in a haze of fire and smoke; their breath clouding in front of them to blend with the dawning day.

* * *

AN: And there you go! Hope you liked it. This chapter was hard to write because I really liked Aldvilde's character, but for some reason nothing else I did worked. At least I still have flashbacks!

Thanks for reading, please review!


	3. The Morning After

Okay, folks. We got a little longer chapter today. Sorry, I'm running a bit behind schedule! It's been a busy week! This chapter follows the events of 8x04. As always, there will be flashbacks.

I want to take a second to thank everyone that reviewed, followed, or favorited this story! Thank you so much for the support!

P.S. Please excuse any typos, I've tried going through this, but I noticed in some earlier chapters that I had some mistakes so there are probably a few in this one as well.

Once again: I don't own anything of GOT, only the original characters.

* * *

"_Harder!" Bjornen's father ordered. Bjornen hated this. He wished he could go swimming or explore the southern woods. He was tired of fighting, of training; he knew he was not meant for leading. He did not want to lead, but his father did not understand this. His father had wanted to be chief, but Thorgils had won the Gatlopp when they were younger, and now his father was convinced that Bjornen would win the next one. Bjornen knew he would not. _

"_Again!"_

_Bjornen stifled a groan, and moved into his stance. Bjalfi swung his battle-ax at Bjornen's face. With a quick movement, Bjornen blocked the blow and deflected. He went on offense, knowing if he did, the fight would be over quickly. He was right. The second Bjornen swung Bjalfi twisted the blade out of his hand and threw him on his back. Bjornen groaned in pain. _

"_You are sloppy." Bjalfi criticized. "You see her?" He pointed to the left. _

_Looking to where his father directed, Bjornen could see Aldvilde training with one of the women warriors. She was beating the woman warrior. "See how she has purpose in every blow? She does not get sloppy or back down. Why can you not be like her?"_

_Bjornen let his head fall to the earth. He did not say anything because he knew his father would not listen. Again, he was right. _

"_She is a strong warrior because she fights with her soul. I do not know if you have a soul to fight with." Bjalfi said to himself, moving to pick up the various weapons they had been training with. "You fight as if you have no soul; like sea grass, bending to the will of the ocean, not standing firm. She is like steal: strong. You are not." Bjalfi was still talking as he walked away, shaking his head in disappointment. _

_Bjornen listened as he went, lying still on the grass and wishing he were somewhere else. _

"_That was harsh." Spoke a voice to his right, making Bjornen startle and jerk his head towards the sound. Ingrid was standing above him, with a laughing smile and kind eyes. Bjornen blinked into the harsh sun and moved his hand to block the light so he could look at Ingrid's face. _

"_Were you listening?"_

_She shrugged, "I did not mean to, but your father is not quiet." _

_Bjornen snorted, closing his eyes and letting his hand fall to the ground. "No, he is not."_

_Ingrid sat next to him on the grass. "Are you alright?" She asked softly._

_He shrugged the best he could while laying on the grass. _

_She sighed. "Aldvilde is angry. It is anger that pushes her fight, not her soul." Bjornen turned and watched Aldvilde fight. He could see her anger from here. She was scowling and her movements, while powerful, were harsh and unyielding. _

"_You have a soul, Bjornen." Ingrid said kindly. "And your soul helps you fight. Someday you will be the best fighter of all of us." _

_Bjornen shook his head, staring at Aldvilde as she pushed the warrior into the dirt. "No, I do not think so."_

* * *

Ingrid watched from the doorway as a young man was named "Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End." She watched as the man tried to leave, only to be stopped by the Queen. She watched as she overruled his apparent illegitimate birth. She watched the shocked faces turn into cheering faces as the new Lord toasted to his new title. And all while she watched, Ingrid tried to riddle out exactly what was happening. It seemed the more she learned about their culture, the more confused she became.

She did not understand their titles. She did not fully understand what Lords and Ladies did. She understood that they served the King or Queen, which were like Chiefs in Ingrid's mind. But it also seemed like there were duties Chiefs had that Kings and Queens did not participate in, perhaps this is where the Lords and Ladies intervened? Ingrid did not know. Nor did she understand the significance behind the naming ceremony she just witnessed.

She was jolted out of her stupor by the body crashing into hers.

"I'm sorry!" Cried out the new Lord. He had apparently tried to leave but had not seen her in time. "Sorry. I'm sorry…Chief." He stumbled and moved to walk away again. Ingrid grinned; a perfect opportunity to answer her questions had appeared.

"Lord Gendry!" She called, walking after him. His body jumped and he turned to face her with a startled look, his eyes wide.

"I'm not…don't call me that." He mumbled. Once again, Ingrid was confused. She was becoming tired of being confused. It would be nice to finally return home.

"I apologize." She said. "I thought that was your name."

"Gendry." He corrected. "Just Gendry."

She nodded. "Alright. Just Gendry then." She smiled.

He was a very nice man because he smiled back, if not a bit shyly.

"Just Gendry, I was hoping you could answer some questions." She asked, getting back on topic. He immediately looked puzzled and looked around for someone else to take his place. Ingrid felt the need to elaborate so she added, "About your new title. I do not understand titles and bastards."

He jerked his eyes back to hers. "You don't understand bastards?" He asked. "Do you not have bastards where you're from?"

She grinned and shook her head. "We do, but we do not call them such. They are just children."

He looked amazed. "We do not have traditional marriage like you do here." Ingrid explained, "We also do not inherit as you do here, so bastards are not a problem in Eurkos." She shrugged.

Just Gendry looked dazed. "That sounds amazing." He said, but he said it so quietly, Ingrid thought that perhaps he was talking to himself.

"So, could you answer my questions?" She asked again. He looked up, as if realizing she was still there and then frowned conflicted. He looked around the courtyard but appeared to have made up his mind. He smiled kindly, "Sure."

Ingrid was concerned. "Did I take you away from a task? I did not mean to."

His eyes widened. "No." He said, jerking his arms before he realized that he should not touch her and then jerkily moved them back to his sides. "No, I was just lookin' for someone."

"Oh?" Ingrid asked. "Who? Perhaps I could help." She grinned.

Just Gendry gulped. He inhaled a large breath before nodding to himself. "The Lady Arya?"

Ingrid's face brightened. She knew this woman. "You know Lady Stark?"

"Er…yeah." He nodded, bobbing his head.

Ingrid grinned widely, remembering the Lady's fighting skills during the battle and her victory over the Night King. The Lady was impressive indeed. "She is a great fighter, is she not?"

"Yeah…" Ingrid glanced at Just Gendry's face and saw him staring off to the side. She grinned. "And beautiful too." She added.

"Yeah…."

Ingrid tilted her head, staring at Just Gendry with a twinkle in her eye. "You like her." She stated. This shook Just Gendry out of his trance.

"What?" He said, with a scared look on his face. "No, I-"

"Do not worry." Ingrid interrupted, laughing. "I will not tell. I promise." He sighed, relieved.

"Why are you looking for her?" Ingrid asked.

"I just wanted to check on her." Just Gendry shrugged. "I saw her after the battle, but I haven't seen her since the burning this morning and I wanted to see if she was alright."

Ingrid nodded. Yes, he did like her. He liked her very much. Ingrid could see that he was worried about her well-being. It was nice, Ingrid thought, to have someone to watch over you like that.

"And the Lady," Ingrid hedged, "Does she feel the same?"

Just Gendry breathed in deeply and swung his shoulders up into an awkward shrug. "I dunno." He said. "She's never said."

Ingrid frowned and hummed. "Maybe you should ask her?"

Just Gendry's face paled and he laughed weakly. "I'd have to be drunk to ask her that." He said.

"Are you not already?" Ingrid laughed, "I saw you drink many cups in the hall."

He grinned, "Nah, maybe I was a little, but talking to you has sobered me."

"Then perhaps now is the best time to ask." Ingrid prompted.

"True," Just Gendry said, thinking, "I dunno what I would have said if I were drunk." He laughed, "Probably ask her to marry me."

Ingrid did not laugh. "Do you want to?"

He looked back at her, the laugh gone from his face. "Absolutely. But she would never."

Ingrid tilted her head in confusion. "Because she does not care for you?"

Just Gendry shook his head, "She does, I dunno if it's the same as I do for her, but even if she did she wouldn't marry me." He grinned, his eyes drifted towards the side of Ingrid's face and she knew he was thinking of her again. "She's wild and adventurous. She could never stay in one place."

Ingrid grinned again, thinking of another woman warrior who was much the same. "Perhaps she never had a reason to."

Just Gendry smiled with his mouth and shrugged his shoulders in a self-deprecating way in response. Ingrid sensed that he was done with the conversation and silently bemoaned her bad luck: he never answered her original questions. But they had a nice conversation nevertheless.

"I am sorry to say that I have not seen her." She said kindly. Just Gendry looked at her once again and grinned crookedly. "That's alright." He said, angling his body, already moving out of the conversation. "I'll just have to find her myself."

"Goodbye Just Gendry." Ingrid placed a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you find your lady-love." He laughed at what she said, though Ingrid did not know what, and nodded in thanks. As he walked off, Ingrid saw his shoulders shake in laughter.

* * *

_Aldvilde was brooding. If anyone asked she would say she was grieving, but honestly the time for grieving had past. Now she was angry, and sad, and lot of other things she did not want to acknowledge. _

_She was currently at the edge of the river, digging into the mud with a stick just to have something to do with her hands. She was tired of crying and yet, she did not feel like doing anything else. If Aldvilde were to be honest with herself, which she rarely was anymore, she would say she was lonely. She missed her mother, her father, even her little brother who had annoyed her so when he was still alive. _

_Death is not uncommon in their village. There are constant invaders hoping to gain more land or goods, but Alpta is strong. She only wished her family was stronger. _

_After the failed invasion, Aldvilde put everything she had into fighting. She vowed to herself that she would not fall like her parents and she would not be caught unaware like her brother. She would be the best and defeat her enemies. She would-_

"_Hello" A voice called, interrupting her musings. Aldvilde turned a watched as a blond girl around her age came closer to where she was sitting on the riverbank. _

"_Hi" She answered back gruffly. _

_The girl paused before coming closer. "My name is –"_

"_I know who you are." Aldvilde interrupted. She had seen Ingrid in the village. It was almost impossible not to know the others. Everyone knew each other; they interacted with each other everyday. _

"_Good. That saves me from having to introduce myself." Ingrid said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and sitting by Aldvilde. _

_Aldvilde sighed loudly. "Do you not have better things to do?"_

_Ingrid grinned. "No." She picked up a stick to start stabbing the mud as well. "I saw you sitting here and thought you might like some company."_

_Aldvilde scowled. "I do not; go away."_

_Ingrid turned and looked at Aldvilde's scowl. She narrowed her eyes, starting deeply before making a decision. "No," she said finally, "I do not think I will go away." _

_Aldvilde sighed again, annoyed at this girl who would not leave her to sulk. _

"_I do not want company. I do not wish to talk with you."_

"_Well, I would like to talk with you." Ingrid said, lilting her voice in amusement. Aldvilde did not want to be amusing; she wanted Ingrid to go away. _

"_Can you not see that I am busy?" She asked, exasperated. _

"_Are you?" Ingrid asked with a smile. "I thought you were sulking."_

_Aldvilde scowled again, turning away in fury. "I was not sulking."_

"_Oh, my mistake." Ingrid said, turning away as well. When Aldvilde snuck a glance she saw that Ingrid was still smiling and the sight made her furious. _

"_Stop smiling."_

"_Stop lying." Ingrid shot back. She stared into Aldvilde's eyes with a challenge. As much as Aldvilde hated Ingrid in this moment, she hated backing down from a challenge even more. She gritted her teeth. _

"_Fine," She spat. "I was sulking."_

_Ingrid's demeanor changed completely. "It is not weak to grieve for the dead. But you are also not doing yourself any favors sulking by the riverbank and avoiding everyone else. You need to live; have fun; enjoy yourself." Aldvilde scoffed. "_Enjoy yourself," _she said. Aldvilde did not want to enjoy herself, she did not want to have fun or see the others in the village; she did not want to do anything. _

"_I do not want to." She exclaimed, throwing her stick into the river. "I am miserable; let me be miserable!" She hated herself as she felt more tears well in her eyes and drip down her cheeks. _

"_That is stupid"_

"_What?" Aldvilde said, surprised by Ingrid's bluntness. "Do you usually tell people they are stupid?" She asked incredulously. Ingrid grinned and winked. _

"_When they are being stupid I do." Taken back by the bizarre turn of events, Aldvilde let lose a shocked laugh. Her eyes widened. She had forgotten what it felt like to laugh. Ingrid laughed in response. _

"_Come," she said. She got to her feet and held out a hand. "Let us go and be miserable somewhere else."_

_Aldvilde knew wherever they went she would not feel miserable. But she took Ingrid's hand anyway._

* * *

The air inside the hall was stifling, but after such a mournfully cold morning, Ingrid did not mind it. They had all gathered in the grand hall of Winterfell to celebrate the living. It was a celebration Ingrid was glad for, she had cried too long and Aldvilde always loved a good party. Ingrid left Bjornen at the table to refill her cup. Wine was a novelty; she had never tasted it before and it was much sweeter than anything she had tasted, even the honey mead from home. As she got closer to the high table, she heard Tormund try to convince the King to drink from his horn.

"No," The King protested, "Not in one go."

"Go on," egged on his sister, the Lady of Winterfell, "I believe in you." She was seated at the table with her own cup. Ingrid had not had the opportunity to talk with her, but she knew her name was Sansa Stark and she was the half-sister to the King.

"We have to celebrate our victory." Proclaimed Tormund. Ingrid had reached them and had to duck around the small group for the flask of wine.

"Vomiting is not celebrating." The King argued.

Tormund looked at the King, "Yes, it is." He disagreed, making the small group laugh. Ingrid grinned at Tormund's nature. He was kindhearted and had attempted to talk about Aldvilde with her when the wound was too fresh. Ingrid liked him; she could see why Aldvilde had been drawn to him.

Tormund shrugged off the King's refusal. "To the Dragon Queen!" He cried to the room, prompting a cheer and a toast.

Behind her, the Queen rose to her feet and toasted, "To Arya Stark, the hero of Winterfell." This prompted another round of robust cheering. Ingrid laughed and watched as Tormund gulped down his wine, much to the pleasure of the others. She was disrupted when the Lady of Winterfell strode past her, unbalancing her before Ingrid shifted her feet.

When Ingrid turned back around, the King had joined Tormund. The Queen sat in her chair at the high table, staring at the others in the room. Ingrid thought she looked lonely and figured now would be a good time to speak with the Queen. She was not sure what the protocol was, but she also did not particularly care.

"Your Grace?" Ingrid asked. "May I sit?" She gestured towards the empty seat that the King had vacated.

The Queen looked up at her appearance and nodded in acquiescence. "Why are you not with your friends?" She asked looking towards Bjornen, now in the middle of a drinking game with Tyrion and the knights Ingrid had spent last night with.

Ingrid shrugged nonchalantly and grinned. "I needed more wine. They are using it all in their game."

The Queen gave an indulgent smile and Ingrid could not help thinking that it was no wonder she was sitting alone. There was a moment of silence as Ingrid struggled to find something to say and the Queen watched the crowd.

Finally, blessedly, the Queen broke the silence. "You did not want to play?" She asked.

"No, I do not care much for drinking games. Besides," Ingrid turned to the Queen and smiled kindly. "You looked like you could use the company."

The Queen looked back, surprised. "You wanted to keep me company?"

"It is a party, yes?" Ingrid grinned, raising her cup. "No one should be sitting alone at a party."

The Queen smiled back in response and Ingrid thought that she should smile more often. She would have more friends if she did.

"So tell me," Ingrid said, settling into her chair and hoping she could pry a good conversation and maybe some answers out of the Queen. "What is Essos like? The people of Eurkos had never been before. I was surprised to hear of it. That is where you are from, yes?"

"Yes." The Queen said with a fond smile. "I've lived there my whole life, although I am originally from Westeros."

"Did you enjoy living there?"

"Sometimes." The Queen crinkled her eyes as she remembered.

Ingrid grew curious. "Tell me about it."

* * *

"_Chief" _

_Ingrid turned to see Bjornen catching up to her. She waited for him to walk beside her as she made her way to the castle. Bjornen's presence was a comfort to her but she felt him tense when one of the other Chiefs walked by. _

"_What is it, Bjornen?"_

"_The Chiefs wonder when we will return home."_

_Ingrid stopped in her tracks and stared incredulously at Bjornen. "We burned our dead not ten minutes ago."_

_He sighed. "Yes." He ran a large hand over his hair, causing it to ruffle and flop onto his forehead. "But the Chiefs are anxious to return to a familiar place. They are homesick."_

_Ingrid closed her eyes. She could not blame the Chiefs for this. She missed Alpta with a deep ache in her chest. There was so much she did not understand in this unfamiliar place, and too much loss to accompany it. "I am as well." She replied._

"_So why are we still here?" Ingrid knew Bjornen did not ask to be critical, but she felt annoyance and resentment bubble up inside her. How she wished Aldvilde were here. Leading was easier with Aldvilde by her side to make her laugh and give her strength. _

"_We are still here because half of our clansmen are dead and we have no supplies." Ingrid said in a clipped tone. "And if the other Chiefs do not understand that, you can send them to me." She glared at the castle standing in front of her and tried to blame her problems on it. She could not, she knew this; her mother would shake her head at Ingrid's foolishness if she could see her. _

"_Ingrid…" Bjornen said in a soft tone. As Ingrid turned to look at him, Bjornen placed a strong hand on her shoulder. Ingrid appreciated this; it grounded her like Aldvilde used to. At this thought, and the look in Bjornen's eyes, Ingrid felt the burning of tears in her eyes. _

"_Bjornen." She said pitifully. "I am so tired." She admitted. A tear slid down her cheek despite Ingrid's disapproval. She was tired of crying, tired of fighting, tired of Westeros and the people in it. _

_Bjornen pulled her closer and Ingrid's hand came up to grip the wrist of the arm holding her steady. "I am too, Ingrid." He angled his head so he could look into her eyes. "You are the Chief of Alpta." He said strongly, as if she needed reminding. "You still have clansmen who are looking to you. I know that you are tired, but you must continue on."_

_Ingrid closed her eyes, thankful that she had Bjornen to set her right. She nodded. _

"_I have not forgotten." She looked back at him and the movement caused more tears to fall. "I have not forgotten who we fight for. We came here to help our friend, but we also came to save our future. We have done that; after we resupply, we will go back to Eurkos."_

* * *

Ingrid was not sure why she was at the council meeting. She had done her duty; she had aided her friend. Now it was time for rest and recuperation. Instead of this, Ingrid found herself in the midst of another council meeting. For what, Ingrid did not know. The number of things Ingrid did not know seemed to be growing by the second and this made Ingrid want to scream. She felt a pulling in her bones for Eurkosian shores. She felt a longing for her clan, and the fresh air rolling down from the mountains.

"Chief Ingrid?"

Ingrid jerked out of her trance to see the room staring at her. "Yes?" She asked, tried to shake off the remnants of her daydream.

"How many are left in your number?" Asked the Queen. Ingrid frowned.

"Half." She answered shortly. The others nodded and the King moved some pieces on their table. Ingrid wondered if it was typical for rulers here to play with models.

"The Golden Company has landed in Kings Landing, courtesy of the Greyjoy Fleet." Lord Varys said, nodded to Theon who was sitting, due to his injuries. "The balance has grown distressingly even."

Ingrid studied the table in front of her and tried to understand what was happening. Briefly she felt a flash of anger at Ser Davos for leaving her in the dark before realizing that perhaps he does not know that she is in the dark. Ingrid hoped so; her mother used to call her naïve that Ingrid would choose to see the best in others.

"Cersei will make sure they don't believe it." Said the Queen, in a hard voice, bringing Ingrid back to the present. "We will hit her hard; we'll rip her out root and steam."

Tyrion cut in, staring concerned at the Queen. "The objective here is to remove Cersei without destroying Kings Landing."

They were talking of the southern Queen, Ingrid realized. Does this Queen want to overthrow the Queen of Kings Landing, Ingrid questioned. She ran through her brief knowledge of Westeros that she gathered from Ser Davos' choppy lessons. Yes, Ingrid decided listening closely as Lord Varys listed allies of other houses, the Queen is planning to overtake the southern Queen.

"No matter how many Lords turn against her, as long as she sits on the Iron Throne she can call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Said the Queen. She turned to Tyrion. "We need the capital."

"I watched the people of Kings Landing rebel against their King when they were hungry, and that was before winter began." Tyrion reasoned. "Give them the opportunity and they will cast Cersei aside."

The King of the North set forward. "We'll surround the city. If the Iron Fleet tries to ferry in more food, the dragons will destroy them. If the Lannisters and the Golden Company attack, we'll defeat them in the field."

"Once the people see that Cersei is our only enemy, her reign is over."

Ingrid wanted to ask so many questions: Why are they fighting the Iron Fleet is the Greyjoys are allies? Which Lannisters does the King speak of if he is not referring to Ser Jaime and Tyrion? Who is the Golden Company? But Ingrid stayed silent. This was not her war; she would not get involved.

"Alright." The Queen acquiesces after a pause.

Ingrid's focus was dragged to the opposite side of the room when the Lady of Winterfell spoke. "The men we have left are exhausted. Many of them are wounded. They'll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate." She reasoned to the Queen.

The Queen straightened her back and lifted her chin to stare at the Lady. "How long do you suggest?"

The Lady of Winterfell shifted on her feet with her hands behind her back. "Can't say for certain; not without talking to the officers." She answered blithely. Ingrid agreed with her assessment. Talking with her own fellow Chiefs, she felt she gained a better understanding of the supplies needed for the journey back to Eurkos, but their men were weak, wounded, and starving. They needed time before they could make the journey back. Departing now, with little supplies and weakened clansmen would result in more casualties. It would be foolish for a leader to make a decision without consulting her people. Ingrid's mother taught her this.

"I came north to fight alongside you at great cost to my armies and myself." The Queen said tightly. The shift in tone caused Ingrid look up sharply. The hair on the back of Ingrid's neck rose and she unconsciously shifted her feet as one does when preparing for a fight. "Now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone."

The Lady of Winterfell was not cowed by the Queen's language. "It's not just our people, it's yours. You want to throw them into a war they're not ready to fight?"

Once again, Ingrid found herself agreeing with the Lady. She wanted to speak up, but felt that it was not her place. This was their war, not hers.

"The longer I leave my enemies alone, the stronger they become." The Queen argued.

"The Northern forces will honor their promises and their allegiances to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." The King said, speaking to his sisters with a look of warning. Ingrid grew steadily more uncomfortable being in the room as she watched the standoff between the King and his sisters. For a moment she wondered if anyone would notice if she slipped out, but her musings were cut off by Tyrion's voice.

"…bulk of the remaining Dothraki, Unsullied, and Eurkos clansmen…-"

"-No."

* * *

"_This Queen of yours has many titles." Ingrid said with a confused tone. Davos laughed. _

"_Yes," He agreed. "But she earned them." He moved to refill his cup of mead. _

_It was a pleasant day in Alpta and Davos was taking a rare opportunity to educate Ingrid in the ways of Westeros. _

"_She liberated many people. Everyone is Essos either loves her or hates her."_

_Ingrid looked at him so directly that Davos shifted underneath her stare. "She made many enemies in her liberations?" _

_Davos nodded. "I suppose." Ingrid shook her head. She reached around him for some bread and tore into it. _

"_Why are you shaking your head?" Davos asked confused. _

_She shrugged. "I do not understand why the people need to be liberated, but I can imagine that others would not be happy about it." She took another bite of bread. "Eurkos does not have slaves, as you call them. We have the alive and dead. We do not keep prisoners."_

_Davos blinked, shocked. "What do you do with surviving invaders?"_

_Ingrid shrugged again, preoccupied with her search for ale. "Send them back. They return home ashamed and that is enough for us. Besides, children never come on invasions so there is no need to keep any of them."_

_Davos thought this way of life was bizarre. "What if the invaders win? What do you do with survivors then?"_

_Ingrid looked at him with a raised brow. "Then everyone has either died or left anyways." She returned to her ale. "Like I said, we keep no prisoners."_

_She moved to wipe her hands on her leggings. "Your Queen must either be very kindhearted or very cruel to do what she does."_

_Davos didn't have anything to say to that._

* * *

"So, if all are in agreement, Jon and Ser Davos will ride down the Kings Road with the Northern troops and the bulk of the remaining Dothraki, Unsullied, and Eurkos clansmen. A smaller group-"

"-No." All movement in the room stopped. Ingrid felt herself speak without realizing that it was her speaking. Her mind caught up with her body and replayed the moment. She did not understand: she thought these people were her allies, some were her friends - how could she have missed this?

Tyrion tilted his head in the way he does when confused. "I'm sorry?"

Ingrid felt emboldened by his confusion and kept her tone firm. "No. The clansmen will not accompany you to Kings Landing."

All occupants turned to look at the Queen. Her muscles were tightly bound and her nostrils flared in anger, yet she kept her tone somewhat light. "I do not understand." She admitted. "I thought you were my allies."

Ingrid nodded unperturbed by the Queen's reaction. "We are your allies. We are not your subjects."

There was a thickness to the air in the room that Ingrid ignored. She could hear her blood pumping in her ears. How foolish she had been to trust these Westerosi. They were not all like Ser Davos. Ser Davos was kind and helpful and deserving of her aid. Although, recently he had let her down as he was standing silently beside her.

The Queen blinked before stating, "I was under the impression that the clansmen were here to help us win the war."

Ingrid nodded. "We agreed to help fight against the dead. We never agreed to fight any other wars. This is your fight, not ours."

"So now that the dead are defeated you plan to desert your friends."

"Now that the dead are defeated I plan to lead my people." Ingrid replied sharply. "We too came here at great cost. We came because our friend called for help and we honor and value that friendship." Ingrid spoke pointedly at the Queen, who stood in fury. "Now, that aid has been given and it is time for us to return home to our families."

"Surely," Tyrion cut in, casting a helpless and worried look in the Queen's direction before pleading to her, "You can spare more time to help us win against Cersei? Once Cersei finds out there is land west of Westeros, she will seek to conquer it as well."

Ingrid shrugged. "Let her. We'll give her a proper welcome." She grinned wolfishly. The Eurkos people fought off invading armies from the west, why should invading armies from the east be any different.

Tyrion looked even more worried at her response. "Cersei is a fierce adversary." He warned. "She will not be defeated easily."

Ingrid remained unaffected. "Is that not what you are planning to accomplish?" She asked, gesturing to the table. "Or are your models only for play?"

"You will help us defeat Cersei." Stated the Queen, making it clear there was no room for disagreement. "You stood in front of me and said we would fight together. You told me to tell you where to fight and you would obey. Now I am telling you where to fight. Are you going back on your word?"

Ingrid felt rage seep into her blood, curling up her muscles and making them clench. Her body felt hot as she narrowed her eyes at the Queen. It was difficult to believe that a few hours ago, they were sitting at the high table having a pleasant conversation about Essos.

"I vowed to aid in the fight at Winterfell." Ingrid darkly spat. "I led my fellow clansmen to a fight against dead men. If there are more dead walking around Kings Landing, then I will gladly aid you in destroying them. But as far as I can tell, you plan to usurp a southern Queen. And as I said before: that is not my fight."

"I am Daenerys Targaryen, the true Queen to the Iron Throne, the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." The Queen said, raising her voice in anger. "And if you are not my ally, then you are my enemy."

Abruptly, Tyrion and Lord Varys started to whisper at the Queen, who seemed unaffected by their frantic tones. The King stepped forward in shock. Ser Davos clutched Ingrid's arm either to stop her from moving or to convince himself she was still there, Ingrid did not know.

"You are the Queen to be sure." Ingrid said in a flat voice. "You are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," she shrugged. "But you are not my Queen."

Ingrid jerked her arm out of Davos' hand and stepped towards the Targaryen. "You have forgotten, your Grace." Ingrid mocked. "I am not off the Seven Kingdoms. I am not of Westeros. And I am not yours to order where or when to fight."

Ingrid felt her confidence return. She felt like a Chief again. The solidity that disappeared when the dead came, when Aldvilde died, whenever Ingrid felt alone or confused or ignorant, came rushing back. She stood tall and steady on her feet.

"I am Chief Ingrid of Alpta in Eurkos. I have clansmen who are looking to me to lead them and make decisions more their betterment, not to lead them into another war they are not willing nor ready to fight."

She made a sweeping gesture to the table. "You can play war with your models and lead your men into a massacre and become the Queen of ashes for all I care. My men will rest in Winterfell, and when they are ready to leave, we will be going home."

* * *

"_You have a strong enemy to the south that sits on fertile land. Your land is rotten and unfit for crops. Your people are weak because they have little food. What do you do?" Ingrid's mother asked as if she were telling someone the weather. Ingrid bit her lip in concentration. Her mother was kind, but she did not accept foolish children. _

"_I send word to the other clans?" Ingrid asked unsure, her voice rising in pitch._

_Her mother nodded without a smile. "That is a good start. What else?"_

_Ingrid sighed, her little shoulders moving with her breaths. "I could move the clan closer to the beach? For fishing?"_

_Her mother nodded again. "Yes, that is a very good proposal." Ingrid grinned. "But what else should you do?"_

_Ingrid's brow furrowed. "Remember Ingrid," Her mother said, hinting her, "A Chief is nothing without her people."_

_Ingrid's face brightened. "Oh!" She cried. "I should have consulted with my close advisors and clansmen first!"_

_Her mother finally smiled. "Yes!" Then she gave Ingrid another sharp look. "And they would have presented ideas for you, some that you may not have thought of yourself. But what if they present the idea to invade the southern clan?"_

_Ingrid's eyes widened with dismay. Invade the southern clan? But Mother said they were weak with hunger! "We cannot!" Ingrid cried. "We are not strong enough! We must gain strength before we can take on another clan!" _

_Her mother nodded, pleased with her assessment. "And if the southern clan decides to invade you?"_

_Ingrid gave a disgusted look to the south, as if looking at the clan in question. "That would be very stupid." She criticized. "We have nothing they want. It would be pointless to invade a clan with no land, no food, and weak people."_

_Her mother laughed, "Yes, it would be. But, nonetheless, how would you respond?"_

_Ingrid rolled her eyes. "We would set traps, or run. The land is nothing to us, if we were forced, we should leave anyway."_

_Her mother gave her a look that said she was not entirely pleased with her answer, but was also not going to push for a better one. "Very well, then. Let us hope you do not lead your future clan into ruin." She said smartly. Ingrid grinned at her dryness. Mother rolled her eyes and dragged Ingrid onto her lap, laughing. _

"_Remember Ingrid," Her mother said with seriousness, looking into Ingrid's eyes. "A good Chief will always take the good of the clan into consideration when making decisions. A Chief is nothing without her people."_

_Ingrid nodded at her mother, driving this lesson into her memory. She would not forget._

* * *

Bjornen was not sure what went on in the council meeting. The tension going in to the meeting was high, but it did not compare to the tensions coming out of the meeting.

Ingrid had stormed out first, her body coiled for a fight, face stone, eyes burning, Bjornen was glad to have missed the meeting.

"Bjornen!" She barked as she came closer. She jerked her head and bid him to follow. Bjornen quickly turned to Ser Davos, who had followed her out. He looked resigned and nodded to Bjornen, who took no comfort in this gesture.

"Chief!" He answered, turning to follow. He waited until he was closer before calling to her quietly. "Ingrid, what is the matter?"

"That woman." She growled, "That woman thinks she can command me?" Bjornen's mind raced to catch up. Ingrid kept her quick pace as she reached the outside gates of Winterfell. She gazed at the clansmen camping. Bjornen watched as her eyes flitted from one camp to the next, taking stock of the people. A few of the other Chiefs noticed Ingrid's agitated state and rose to help, but Bjornen waved them away. He would find out what caused this.

"Who, Ingrid?"

"The Dragon Queen." Ingrid spat, her eyes narrowing as they continued to scope the grounds. Bjornen felt his muscles tense.

"The Queen tried to command you?" He asked incredulously.

Ingrid bitterly laughed. "She wants the people of Eurkos to fight for her throne of Iron." She explained.

Bjornen looked at the clansmen. Some were talking, but most were too injured and exhausted to stay awake. "When would they leave?"

Ingrid turned to see his face. He met her eyes with a thoughtful frown.

"The Queen wants to leave soon. She fought with the Lady of Winterfell about postponing due to recuperation."

Bjornen hummed distastefully. His lips pursed as he thought of the Eurkosians moving so soon. The people of Alpta, and most of their allied clans, were ready when a battle appeared, but they did not go looking for battles. It was not their way.

"When will the men be ready to move?" Ingrid asked quietly.

"According to the other Chiefs?" Bjornen posed a rhetorical question. "One week."

Ingrid nodded. She turned away from the clans to face Bjornen fully. "If we are forced to fight…"

"We will fight." Bjornen assured her. Ingrid gave him a heavy look and Bjornen felt the need to take a deep breath. "If you give the command Chief, we will follow."

Ingrid copied his movements and turned back to gaze at the clansmen.

"Good."

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! From this point on most of the story will be AU, so we'll see how that goes.

Please review! I'd love to hear any thoughts or ideas you have on the story!

Also, I'm not sure how quickly I can get these chapters out. I started a summer class and I'm spending all of my time reading for the class instead of writing (eek), so pray for me.


	4. Farewell

Farewell

The final chapter of _West of Westeros. _Sorry it is so late; it has been an incredibly busy few weeks! But here it is, the last installment of Ingrid's adventures in Westeros. I tried to keep most things in line with the show, but other details have been change, obviously because of some changing events because of the Eurkosians. I wanted to thank everyone that read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited this story. It has been so much fun writing it and your reaction to the story has been amazing! Thank you!

* * *

It looked like it was snowing. Ingrid knew snow. She lived in snow for most of the year. Alpta was a northern clan. In early winter, the water the freeze and the snows would come and the clans would learn to adapt to the cooler climate. But Ingrid knew this was not snow. There was no frost in the air; no chill biting her nose and ears. The bumps lining her skin had nothing to do with cold. Winter had ended in Westeros, and although the air was stifling, the day looked cold. White flakes fell from the sky, covering everything around her. Clouds of ash had formed over the sky, and made the day seem dreary.

Ingrid wanted to run. She wanted to check every burnt body and scream out his name, but her body had no energy to do so. She was exhausted. She was tired of Westeros: of their Queens with no regard for human life, of their petty politics over a throne no one and everyone cared about, and of their blatant disrespect for Ingrid and her people. She was tired of fighting. She wanted to go home. But more than that, she wanted Aldvilde and Bjornen to come home with her. Her mind ached as she knew this was impossible for Aldvilde, her heart ached as she hoped it would not be for Bjornen.

Ingrid signed as she sword scrapped against the melted stone at her feet. She could not give up hope. Bjornen was here somewhere. They had been together when the battle, or massacre, had started. They had fought together side-by-side. She had held his hand and felt him being torn away from her as crowds of confused and scared soldiers pushed them apart. She would find Bjornen. He would come home to Eurkos with her, dead or alive.

* * *

_The sound of harsh footsteps thumped heavily on the wood of the balcony as Ingrid stomped towards the council room. The door banged against the stone wall as it is flown open and rocks quickly back towards the frame. Ingrid entered the room in a cloud of fury. Standing in front of the Queen with a stony presence, Ingrid tries to control her anger. _

"_You summoned me?" She asks with derision. She is humiliated. She would not have come if Ser Davos had not begged her to. The idea of her, the Chief of Alpta, being _summoned _like a dog is painful to her pride and the respect her clan has for her authority. She is a Chief, a fighter, an Eurkosian. She is not a dog to be handled by a Queen that plays war with her models and toys; this Queen that commands others to fight for her, while she stays away from the danger on the back of a dragon; this Queen that thinks that one kind conversation is enough to assume obedience from another. This Queen that knows nothing of what it takes to truly be a leader and fight for the betterment of her people and not for the betterment of herself. _

_Ingrid wants to scream at her pettiness and arrogance. She wants to slap her smug smile from her face. But she has learned from better leaders than her to never lead by her emotions. And so Ingrid keeps her face blank and her back straight and her voice level as she waits for the Queen explanation. _

"_Yes," replied the Queen. "I wanted to inform you that I have decided to postpone the march to Kings Landing." _

_This news had no outward effect on Ingrid, but she was relieved by the revelation. This was good news for the few friends she had made in Westeros. More time to recuperate would hopefully give the armies more energy and endurance. The North could accumulate more food and supplies before marching south. _

_Ingrid noticed that the Queen had paused in her speech to see her reaction to the news. _

"_That is good news, is it not?" Ingrid asked pedantically._

_The Queen did not seem pleased by this response. Her expression hardened slightly as she continued on. "Yes, it is."_

"_Was this all you had to say to me, your Grace?"_

_The Queen once again grew colder as she took in Ingrid's stiffness. _

"_No," She drew breath and then released it steadily. "I summoned you for confirmation that the clansmen will also be marching with us to Kings Landing when we go to retake the Iron Throne."_

_Ingrid heard the challenge in the non-question and prevented herself from gritting her teeth in frustration. With a pleasant tone she answer, "No, I am afraid we must go back to Eurkos. The clans are preparing for the journey back as we speak."_

"_It is unfortunate." The Queen said genteelly. "that the clans are not prepared to honor the agreement made with House Targaryen. Such a response can only be taken as a severance of the alliance between Eurkos and House Targayren. If the clans refuse to honor this agreement, House Targaryen will be forced to pay the clans back in full."_

_Ingrid hated the way the Queen spoke of her House as if she were not a part of it. The political dance the Queen used with her language was confusing, and Ingrid did not care for it at all. _

"_Does your Grace mean to say that if the clans refuse to fight for your throne, you will declare war on Eurkos?" Ingrid blankly questioned._

_The Queen saw Ingrid's unwillingness to participate in her game, and her met her gaze with cold eyes. "Yes."_

_Ingrid lifted her chin. "Eurkos has fought off invaders before."_

_The Queen lifted a brow. "Have they fought off dragons before?"_

_Ingrid pursed her lips at the implication. "Eurkos will prepare for any potential threats." _

_The Queen leaned forward in her chair. "Then Eurkos better prepared for the full force of Westeros. Because if I come to claim Eurkos, and I will if you continue to deny me, I will come after I have won the Iron Throne. I will come with my armies from Essos. I will come with my dragons. I will come with the Bannermen from the loyal houses of Westeros, and the mercenary armies from the south. Know that I will come for you, Chief Ingrid of Alpta, and when I do, all the clans of Eurkos will not be able to hold me off."_

_Ingrid's mind swam with the numbers of the armies the Queen said she would bring. She wondered if the Queen would really have that many followers. Would everyone readily follow her into another war after she killed their Queen and their friends? Would they willingly fight against a nation they did not know existed? Would the clans of Eurkos be willing to ban together to fight off the invaders of Westeros? No, she supposed. Even if the Queen solidified her armies, not all of the clans would join together. Ingrid did not know how many clans there were, or where they were located, or even how to contact them. The clans moved so often and changed so frequently, Ingrid had no estimation of how many existed, or if they would even be willing to fight against a common enemy. If she refused the Queen, Ingrid would be dooming her nation to ruin or to a life of fear. _"A Chief is nothing without her people." _Ingrid felt the words echo in her head and she took a deep breath. A Chief led her people for the good of the clan. While Ingrid's pride told her to refuse the Queen, she knew that she must do. _

"_And if Eurkos agrees to help the Queen fight for her throne?"_

_The Queen smiled. "Then Eurkos would have an ally in Westeros for as long as Westeros still stands." _

_Ingrid nodded with a grimace. "So be it, then."_

* * *

Bjornen could count the number of times he had been scared, truly terrified, on one hand. Today had been one of those times. Death was not a foreign concept to Bjornen. He dealt with death often in Alpta. He looked death in the eyes at Winterfell, and grieved the death of his clansmen and friends. But this, this was a terrible death. Bjornen never thought that he would survive the massacre at Dragonstone, but he had and he knew that every night he would dream of the horrifying screams of pain and fear that surrounded him as he ran for his life.

Bjornen still shook as he searched for his only living friend. At least he hoped Ingrid was still living. He had seen his fellow clansmen, Agnar, Gyrd, Hadd, Ingun, and so many others succumb to the flames. He had felt the heat of their deaths and their terror as a harsh hand wrapped around his throat, suffocating him with smoke. But he did not see Ingrid die, and so, he refused to believe that she had.

"We found her!" Called out a voice to his left. Bjornen's body jerked harshly at the words and her spun, thinking of Ingrid. But they had not been talking of Ingrid.

A harsh curse left one of the soldier's lips as he examined the broken body. "You can' even reco'nize 'er." He exclaimed, jerking back in disgust.

"Yeah." The other agreed, as more came over to look at the body. "I guess they'll know by her hair?" He questioned.

Another soldier nodded. "An' 'er dress."

Bjornen watched as the soldiers collectively sighed and drug the body on to the cart they had been hauling. The dead woman's red dress caught his eye as it blended with the blood covering her corpse. The men were right. Apart from her cropped blonde hair, and her blood red dress, you would never know she had been Cersei Lannister. Her body had been badly trampled by the hoards of running feet and terrified people.

Another Queen found dead. Uninterested in a body that did not belong to his Chief, Bjornen continued on.

* * *

"_She's planning to march to Kings Landing in two weeks." _

_Jon turned at the sound of Sansa's voice. Sansa and Arya entered the Godswood, pushing Bran across the snow to meet him. Jon didn't ask for clarification of whom they were speaking. _

"_Yes. She postponed as much as she could."_

"_It's too soon." Sansa replied._

_Jon exhaled loudly, showing his annoyance. "And how long do you propose she wait? She already has waited a week. It is reasonable that she would be anxious to defeat Cersei."_

"_Winter is not yet over." Sansa said with a clipped tone. "She should wait until we have more food and supplies."_

_Jon rolled his eyes, forcing his gaze away from his sisters. "You understand we'd all be dead if not for her?" He questioned, looking back at them in indignation. "We'd be corpses marching down to Kings Landing."_

"_Arya's the one who killed the Night King." Sansa exclaimed. _

"_Her men gave their lives defending Winterfell!" Jon argued back._

"_-And we will never forget them." Sansa assured him. "That doesn't mean that I want to kneel to someone-"_

"_I swore myself and the North to her cause." Jon pointed out, annoyed that neither of his sisters seemed to understand his allegiance. _

"_I respect that." Arya broke in calmly. Her reply started the siblings. _

_Sansa frowned, "You respect it?" She asked, sounding condescending and derisive. Jon breathed a sigh of relief to at least have an ally in Arya. _

_Arya looked to Sansa, imploring. "We needed her." She stated. "We needed her army, and her dragons. You did the right thing."_

_Jon felt a weight disappear from his shoulders. '_You did the right thing.' _Hasn't he always tried to do the right thing? Why does it feel like the wrong thing? Why did no one think his decision to follow Daenerys was right?_

"_And we're doing the right thing telling you: we don't trust your Queen." Arya finished, sucking the air out of Jon's lungs. Yes. That was the heart of it. He knew that Dany was making enemies here. It seemed like no one trusted her anymore. If Jon were to be honest with himself, he might even say that he didn't trust her completely. Had he ever? It was hard to remember when he had. _

"_You don't know her yet," He argued weakly. He didn't know if he was talking to himself or his sisters. _

"_I'll never know her," Arya stated. "She's not one of us."_

_Jon frowned at her statement. "If you only trust the people you grow up with, you won't make many allies." His voice grew with frustration. _

"_That's alright." Arya shrugged, her voice calm. "I don't need many allies."_

"_It's not only that." Sansa broke in, staring at Arya in consideration. "It isn't only that she's an outsider."_

_Jon looked at Sansa in confused annoyance. "Then what?"_

"_Did you hear what she did to the Clans?" Arya asked. _

_Jon's breath caught in his throat. "The Queen's business with the Clans-"_

"_-Was uncalled for." Finished Sansa. "And you know it."_

"_Speaking of allies." Arya said pointedly. "Your Queen is not treating hers very well."_

_Jon was tired of arguing. "Arya-"_

"_We can't trust her." Arya said firmly. "But we can trust each other." _

_Jon was uncomfortable with this kind of talk. He had made a promise to his Queen. Going back on that promise felt dishonest, wrong. But, the Queen had been making questionable decisions lately too. _

"_Jon," Arya said, bringing his attention back to her. "We're family." She said, imploring. "You can trust us. We're the last of the Starks."_

_Her wording hit him, throwing him off balance. _The last of the Starks. _Had it really only been a week since he learned the truth? That he wasn't a Stark; had never been a Stark. _

"_I've never been a Stark." He whispered, unaware he was speaking aloud. _

"_You are." Sansa said, unconcerned by his tired identify crisis. "You're just as much Ned Stark's child as any of us." She stepped forward, causing Jon to shift. The truth hung heavy between him and his…could he called them his sisters? They weren't really. They were cousins. He knew this. _

"_You're my brother." Arya said, brushing off his doubts. "Not my half-brother or my bastard brother. My brother." Jon watched as she met his gaze. The love he saw in her eyes made his heart ache. He looked to Bran, still sitting silently, for assurance, direction. _

"_It's your choice." Bran answered. His intrusion into the conversation caused Sansa and Arya to turn, their faces showing their confusion. _

_Jon continued to stare at Bran, unable to see the confusion and trust on his cousins' faces. It was his choice. He could choose to continue to lie, to be their brother always, to have their trust because he was 'one of them,' 'the last of the Starks.' Or, he could tell the truth, and risk their closeness, their trust, their love. What would they do once they knew who he truly was? There was only one way to find out. _

"_I need to tell you something." He would soon know how the truth would affect them. He would tell them everything, he decided. But, the truth was dangerous. "But you have to swear you'll never tell another soul." He looked at Sansa, then Arya, begging for their promise. He saw their confusion and worry. _

"_What is it?" Arya asked. _

"_You have to swear it before I tell you." He repeated. He would not risk the chance, knowing the truth could cause more damage than he knew. _

"_How can I promise to keep a secret if I don't even know what it is?" Sansa asked, using her logical voice that Jon had hoped would have stayed out of this conversation. _

"_Because we're family." He replied without thinking. The words hung in the air. They were family, Jon thought. Let that be enough. "Swear it."_

_Arya was still frowning in confusion, but she replied with no hesitation, and Jon was grateful. "I swear it."_

_Sansa stared at him longer. Prying with her eyes, trying to gage his secret before he had spoken. Shaken by his conviction, she nodded. "I swear it."_

_Jon sighed in relief and readied himself to tell them, but the words wouldn't come. He realized that he couldn't think the words, let alone speak them. He looked to Bran, his eyes flickering to the ground. _

"_Tell them." He said. Let whatever come from this come; he would meet it when it did._

* * *

Arya stared across the tent wishing she were still in bed. For the first time in her life, she was tired of fighting. She didn't want to fight. She wanted something new; something she had never had. She wanted adventure, and safety, and love. She never let herself desire such things before because she knew she would never receive them. But in the weeks after the Battle at Winterfell, Arya began to believe that maybe she could. Her family was alive. She was alive. Gendry was alive. She had the makings of a pack, a family, all right there ready for her to accept. Sansa was nicer than before. She spoke to her with respect and love. Jon listened to her ideas and watched her spar in the courtyard, like she had always wanted him to. And Gendry, Gendry never left her. He promised he wouldn't, and he didn't. Arya wasn't sure what to make of Gendry. She had hoped he would be her friend. Especially with all they shared together. And after the battle, they had talked and laughed together, and it had been like no time had passed. Except it had. Gendry took more time to warm up to smiles and laughter. Arya took more time to warm up at all. But at least they were together. Arya finally had her family again.

But now, the Queens were dead, good riddance, and Jon was to be King. At least, that was what the argument was about.

"Lord Baratheon is next in line after you, your Grace. Should you abdicate, the Iron Throne would fall to him." Ser Davos pointed out, as Jon shook his head.

Arya watched as Gendry immediately stood with a pale face. "No." He said strongly, becoming used to his new role after weeks of training. "I refuse the throne. I can't be King." He said with some pleading. Arya rolled her eyes. Some things took time, she supposed.

Jon shrugged. "We have to do something. I can't be king forever, and Gendry refuses as well." He scowled as his eyes searched the documents in front of him. "Could be, I don't know, create a council for making decisions? Like a small council, but for Westeros instead of a King?"

Sam looked startled at the suggestion. "I suppose. But it's never been done before. We would have to have a trial period. Setting up the council would take some time."

Jon sighed heavily. "What if I stay on as King for a short time while we explore different options? We let the people know that my ruling is only temporary until we figure out the details."

The men the room shuffled, disliking the idea.

"Sansa will be here soon to taken the Northmen back to Winterfell." Arya said. "We can discuss the idea with her and propose councilmen."

More men shuffled. Arya frowned. This wouldn't be so difficult if Jon just took the throne. Jon scowled at the men in the room. He nodded. "We'll call the Lords to a meeting and wait for Sansa to arrive. Then we'll discuss this further."

Arya met Gendry's eyes from across the tent and Gendry smiled reassuringly.

"And what of the Queen's armies?" Ser Davos asked Jon.

"The Dothraki have been banished from Westeros. They are sailing back to Essos as we speak." Jon answered. There was grumbling as some of the Lords shifted their gazes. All were glad to be rid of the Dothraki. The presence of the decreasing, but bloodthirsty army had left everyone on edge.

"The Unsullied also are leaving. They have been granted a grace period to gather supplies before they set sail." Jon shuffled some letters on his desk and nodded to himself.

There was a brief pause before Jon seemed to come back to himself. He glanced up and saw everyone still gathered. "That's all for now. I will call another meeting when there is more news." A few of the men bowed before parting. Tyrion moved closer to Jon and spoke lowly.

"We are not parting on bad terms." He spoke gently. "It was not your fault that she died." Jon sighed and nodded. Tyrion continued. "They understand why they have to leave." Tyrion shifted on his feet before leaning forward and speaking in a softer tone. "We will come up with a solution for Westeros, Jon. Do not worry."

"Thank you." Jon replied, still frowning at a pile of documents. Tyrion sighed and admitted defeat. He cast a parting glance at Arya and then followed Ser Davos out.

"You're being stupid." Arya said, once everyone had left.

Jon looked up at her with an incredulous look.

"What?" She defended. "You are. If you had just accepted the throne, we wouldn't be in this mess of councils or heirs."

"Arya," Jon started.

"-I know." She said fondly. "You don't want it. But does Westeros need it?" She asked.

Jon blew out a big breath. "They don't need me. I wouldn't do a good job. Maybe once," He admitted. "But not now."

Arya nodded. She could see what he meant. Jon was too lost to be a good king, too confused. He wasn't as steadfast as he used to be. Arya hoped that in time, Jon would return to the man he once was, but she knew that you can never truly get back what you had. But, Arya thought as she came out of the tent to find Gendry waiting for her, sometimes you can find something better.

* * *

_Tyrion silently watched as Chief Ingrid directed her clansmen. It had been three weeks since the battle with the dead and Tyrion was relieved. He had been worried, there was no doubt, that his Queen would refuse Sansa's suggestion and race ahead to Kings Landing. His distress for the innocent of Kings Landing was palpable to the council. He had become even more distressed by the Queen's anger towards Sansa. If they could not reach an agreement, the tensions between the North and the Throne would tear the country apart again. Chief Ingrid's argument with the Queen seemed to have some affect on her decision, however, because soon afterwards her Grace had changed her mind. The company had stayed at Winterfell and were allowed time to rest and resupply. _

_Tyrion was distracted from his musings by Chief Ingrid's sharp voice echoing across the battlements in her harsh language. She shouted orders towards her fellow clansmen as they heaved stones to replace the damaged ones. Ever since the Queen's decision to postpone the march, Sansa had taken it upon herself to start repairs to the castle. Receiving help from the clansmen was unexpected, but welcome. Ever since her argument with the Queen, Chief Ingrid and the other clansmen had been avoiding the others from Westeros. Tyrion had noticed their participation had dwindled along with their friendliness. While the Queen had agreed to postpone, this decision had not made the clansmen more agreeable. Tyrion felt their glares and heard the grumblings of a foreign tongue echo through the halls of Winterfell. Luckily, Chief Ingrid did not seem to despise him for his loyalties and still treated him with cold respect. Tyrion watched her toss hammers up to the clansmen standing on the battlements and he felt a pang of regret for the path their alliance had gone. _

"_My Lord," Tyrion turned to see a Winterfell messenger standing awkwardly beside the small man. _

"_Yes?"_

"_The Queen has asked for your presence in the council room." _

_Tyrion sighed, wondering what could have possibly happened this time. "Thank you." He dismissed the messenger and started towards the meeting. _

_Queen Daenerys was stoic when Tyrion walked into the room. Several others were also present at the meeting: Jon, Sansa, Arya, Davos, Grey Worm, Missandei, and Varys. _

"_What is the cause of this meeting?" the Queen asked, refusing to wait any longer for information. Tyrion watched as Varys came forward with raven scrolls. _

"_We've received word from Kings Landing." Varys replied, laying down the scrolls in front of the Queen. "Cersei has started to march to Dragonstone." _

_The declaration caused a break out of shifting bodies and muttering. Cersei had left Kings Landing? The very notion was absurd to Tyrion. He had never imagined that Cersei would leave the relative safety of the city. And why Dragonstone? He wondered. What was there that would interest Cersei?_

"_Is there any information given as to why?" Tyrion asked, confused and relieved by the news. With Cersei out of Kings Landing, the millions of civilians living there will be out of danger. _

_Varys shook his head in answer. "The message is mute on that." _

"_And what of the Iron Fleet?" Asked the Queen briskly. "And the Golden Company?"_

_Varys turned back to Daenerys. "the Golden Company has followed Cersei with the promise of payment. The Iron Fleet has diminished in number." This caused another stirring. "It seems that the Theon Greyjoy has succeeded in meeting with Yara in the Iron Islands. Together they had rallied forces. Several of the Iron Fleet have abandoned their posts in favor of the Greyjoys."_

_This news gave Tyrion even more assurance of success than before. Finally, good news. "It seems that postponing was a good decision, my Queen." He told her softly, hoping she would also see their success. She smiled, angling her head away from Tyrion and toward Missandei. "We will plan to march to Dragonstone within the week." She directed. Missandei and Grey Worm nodded upon her command. _

"_We will start preparations, your Grace." Jon replied. The Queen nodded towards Jon without looking at him, and Tyrion felt a twinge run through his abdomen. _

"_Is everyone in agreement?" He asked, hopeful that they would all live through this fight. With plans made and spirits raised by the news, the council was dismissed. _

_Tyrion wanted to join in on the celebration of Cersei's desertions of Kings Landing and the success of the Iron Fleet, but watching Daenerys' blank face fed the seed of uneasiness growing inside of him._

_Tyrion's stomach twisted when he heard the other's congratulating Lady Sansa on her idea and saw Daenerys' stony gaze on the redhead._

* * *

"I believe they are headed to Narth." Tyrion said conversationally as Ingrid watched from the tent opening. The two members of the Queen's council, Grey Worm and Missandei, sailed away after a slight delay. Ingrid turned to look at Tyrion; still watching the ships of Unsullied vanish from view. He glanced at her, "Are you ready?" He asked.

Ingrid entered the tent in response. Inside a small council stood around a table, a document at the center. Jon Snow nodded in greeting.

"Chief Ingrid," He said, once everyone had settled inside. "Westeros would like to formally thank the clans of Eurkos for assisting in the battle against the dead, for protecting Westeros, and for our continued alliance." He nodded to Tyrion. Tyrion stepped towards the document and unrolled it, placing weights on the corners to keep it open.

"As a sign of good faith, and documentation of our alliance, a treaty will be signed between Westeros and Eurkos with Chief Ingrid as acting ambassador of Eurkos. Do you agree?"

"I do." Replied Ingrid. With a sense of pride, Ingrid stepped forward and signed her name on the document. She passed the quill to Jon, and then Tyrion, who both signed the document as Westeros ambassador and witness respectfully.

"And so," said Tyrion, capping the ink. "Marks a new era."

* * *

_Ingrid stood with her clansmen staring at the gate to Dragonstone. The queen they call Cersei watched the armies from the top of the battlements. The beaches were filled with the Queen's army. More soldiers were unloading from the ships. What was left of the Queen Cersei's Iron Fleet lay burning at sea. Ingrid watched as the Queen's last dragon flew around the castle, hosting Daenerys on his back. _

"_They are hoping for a quick surrender." Bjornen said from her left._

"_Yes." Ingrid answered, studying the ramparts of the castle. The two clansmen readied themselves with weapons as the armies anxiously watched and waited. Drogon landed with the Queen on top of the giant dragon gates bordering the castle. _

_Tyrion walked ahead of the army towards a dark figure coming towards the gate. _

"_Who is that?" Bjornen asked. _

_Ingrid narrowed her eyes. "I do not know."_

_Silent, the armies waited as the two men spoke, before Tyrion moved toward his sister. _

"_What is Lord Tyrion doing?" Ingrid heard Bjornen mutter. Ingrid shifted, changing grips on her battle-ax in anxious restlessness. She could not hear the conversation between Tyrion and the man, nor did she know what Tyrion was planning. _

_She wished she were closer so she could hear what Tyrion was saying. The intense silence as the armies waited for commands made her heart pound. Her eyes flickered to the Queen, sitting tall on her dragon, and Ingrid swallowed back angry tears. She should not be here, in this wretched country. She should be back home, in Eurkos, with her people, away from this madness. _

"_Shields!" A sudden cry startled Ingrid. Her gaze shot back to Tyrion, flitting from his short silhouette to the battlements where movement was stirring. "Shields!"_

_The infantry forcing up a shield wall as hundreds of arrows rained down from the sky. _

_Foot soldiers swarmed from the castle, meeting the Queen's army at the gates. Ingrid was lost in the chaos as soldiers fought. Briefly she wondered where Tyrion had run off to, she had not seen him since the arrow fire. She hoped he was still alive. Ingrid turned to Bjornen but found that he was not by her side. She swung her head around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friend. "Bjornen!"_

"_Bjor-" Ingrid's breath caught in her throat as a member of the Golden Company slammed his shield into her side. With a quick slash, Ingrid had moved on, trying to regain her breath. She muddled through the battle, weaving through the fighting soldiers, looking for her friend. She made no move to fight any soldier that did not first attack her. This was not her fight. She did not care who was fighting whom. Ingrid's breath quickened as she thought of Bjornen. She had to find him. _

_Ingrid's gaze was soon distracted by a dark shadow crossing over her. Jostled, Ingrid fought to rebalance herself, and looked toward the source of the shadow. A dragon flew overhead, shrieking. The Queen had taken to the sky._

* * *

"How long will you stay?" Arya asked her brother. The four of them were together again, after another battle. Only this time, they were saying goodbye.

Jon shrugged, his shoulders shifting underneath the slim armor he had adapted for the southern climate. "As long as I'm needed, I suppose."

"The North will welcome you whenever you are finished here." Sansa said fondly.

Jon grinned, "Will its Queen?" Sansa smiled back, happiness shining on her face.

"Of course," She answered, before moving to embrace him. They gripped each other tightly, unsure when they would see each other again, before parting. "Be careful." Sansa said, placing her hands on his shoulders. "And write."

Jon nodded. They turned to Arya.

"Are you ready?" Sansa asked. "The company's waiting." She gestured towards the ships of the surviving Northmen waiting to sail north.

Arya glanced back at the Northmen, and Tyrion waiting for Sansa to board. She smiled. "I'm not coming." She said.

Sansa frowned, confused but not completely surprised. "Where will you go?"

Arya smiled slowly, her eyes flashed towards another section of the docks where a young man was waiting. "I'm going on an adventure." She grinned, adding, "Don't worry, I'll write."

Sansa snorted softly and took Arya into her arms, hugging her tightly as well.

"And I suppose you are staying here as well." She said, turning to the last member of the family. Bran sat patiently, waiting for their goodbyes to end. He had seen a hundred different outcomes and had preferred this one, though the Three-Eyed Raven had no preferences.

"I am going to the Citadel." He replied. "Samwell Tarly has agreed to document history with my help." He saw their content smiles and knew that Bran was pleased with this ending as well.

"This is goodbye then." Arya said.

"Just for a little while." Bran stated. This seemed to ease the siblings as they came closer and one by one gave Brandon Stark one last hug before departing. The Starks were once again separating, but this time, it was not in discontentment. They would meet again, in the future.

* * *

_Jaime didn't regret going to Winterfell. Not really. He had vowed to protect the Stark girls and that's what he did. He played his part. Being with Brienne was unexpected. And added bonus, as it were. _

_Jaime also didn't regret coming to Dragonstone. This was mostly because Podrick had insisted on fighting and Brienne had insisted on staying with Podrick. So, naturally, Jaime had to come along too. He just hadn't accounted for the uncomfortable family reunion. Not that Cersei knew he was there; she didn't. But that didn't make it any less uncomfortable for him. _

_However, standing on a burning beach, with a burning castle, amidst burning corpses, did cause Jaime to reconsider his list of regrets. _

_When the fighting started, it was easy to keep track of Brienne and Podrick. Easy to see which soldiers they should be fighting and which ones were allies. But now, the dragonfire had destroyed almost everything and everyone, regardless of whose army was in the way. He had watched as Drogon had started blowing fire and had thought in disbelief, '_She burning her own people.' _Now, he had pushed aside his silly thoughts and memories of other burning beaches and focused on staying with Brienne. _

"_What has she done?" Brienne screamed in confusion. She fought desperately to avoid the fire trailing along the beach. Jaime grabbed her arm and swung her, narrowly missing a sword that would have ended up in her skull. With a parry and a jab, said swordsman was dispatched and burning with the rest of the corpses. _

"_She's burning everything!" Brienne said, grasping Jaime's arm to steady herself. "Doesn't she see it's over?" Jaime looked around them. Is it over? They were still fighting each other. Just because everything was already burning, didn't mean that they had won. _

_A figure coming out from the fire refocused Jaime on the task at hand. "Brienne," He cried in warning, before pushing her aside. A sword flashed and pain streaked up his side. Twisting, Jaime brought his sword up and across, effectively cutting off his opponent's life. Jaime stumbled. Distantly he heard his name being called. _

_Strong arms wrapped around Jaime's armor as his body collapsed with weakness. Who had called his name? Jaime tried to take a breath but something was blocking his air. _

"_Jaime! Hold on, just hold on!" _

_Even now, Jaime thought as he lay on the burning sand, he could not regret his decision to follow Brienne. Vaguely he hoped Podrick was alive. _

"_Jaime, stay with me!"_

_There was something ethereal about Brienne, Jaime had noticed. She was glowing; she was beautiful, otherworldly. He wondered how he had ever missed it. Even covered in soot and sand and pain, she was surrounded by light. His Brienne. _

"_Brienne" Brienne, Brienne._

* * *

"I heard you were looking for an adventure." Ingrid called to Arya in a loud voice. She had seen Arya walking with Just Gendry towards the company of clansmen with horses and saddlebags. "I do not suppose you wish to see Eurkos?"

"I always wondered what was west of Westeros." Arya replied calmly. "I would like to find out."

"Well," Ingrid grinned, beckoning them forward. "You are welcome."

"I hope you keep an eye on those two!" Called a familiar voice. Ingrid turned sharply and her smile broadened.

"Ser Davos!" She greeted, walking away from her horse and grasping Davos by the arm. "I did not know you were coming to see us off!"

"Lord Gendry asked me to fill in for him while he is gone. Something about a 'diplomatic mission.'" Davos said in a conspiring tone. "I figured I could see an old friend off while I was here."

Ingrid failed to contain her glee at seeing her friend. "I am glad for it." She pulled him forward in a hug. "I was afraid I would not have the chance to say goodbye."

Davos smiled gently and grasped her shoulders. "Goodbye Ingrid." He said softly. "And thank you."

"Of course," Ingrid nodded. "I could never refuse you, my friend."

Davos' smile shifted into a grin as he took a step back. "If you ever find yourself in need of aid,"

"I know where to send a raven." Ingrid assured him. Ingrid turned and joined the rest of the company. She climbed atop her horse, and pulled the reins, turning to horse towards the west. With Bjornen, Arya, Just Gendry, and the clansmen in front of her, Ingrid twisted so she could see Davos smiling in the east. She lifted her hand in farewell. "Until we meet again, Ser Davos."

* * *

AN: End.

This chapter was hard to write, just because I kind of lost interest. I admit that there were things I wanted to add in the chapter, but I just couldn't seem to write or fit into the chapter in a way that made sense. But, nevertheless, this was a fun exercise for me! I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you again for your support.


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